


The Realms of the Immortals

by nirejseki



Category: Immortals Quartet, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Assassination, Book: The Realms of the Gods, F/M, Gen, Mind Control, Pre-Relationship, Road Trips, Stormwing-Typical Behavior, Watership Down cameo, Worldbuilding, Young Wizards cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: Rikash knew he was signing up for a lot when he became Lord of the Stone Tree Stormwing nation.But joining forces with the extremely dangerous, mysterious, and oddly intriguing Veralidaine Sarrasri, the famous Stormwing Killer, on a road trip through the Divine Realms to assassinate those immortals stupid enough to risk the destruction of the world by working with Chaos?That's - unexpected.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neveralarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/gifts).



Everyone wants to go to Temptation Lake.

Because of course they do. 

Never mind that it's one of the most popular places in the Divine Realms for lesser gods and immortals to gather.

Never mind that Stormwings aren't exactly popular with said lesser gods and immortals at the best of times, such that the mere hint of steel wings or claws and a human face is enough to get some nasty comments made just a touch too loud to be ignored.

Never mind that the current situation is far, far away from the best of times. War in the Divine Realms - stupid, bloodless _divine_ war, rendered in ineffable bursts of light rather than good old-fashioned gore and death and despair - and then there are all those stories about the barrier between the realms getting thinner than it ought to this time of year...

Nope.

Never mind all of that.

Everyone wants to go to play in Temptation Lake.

"I understand that they're idiots," Rikash tells Queen Barzha Razorwing, bating his wings a little for emphasis as he does. "But why does that mean I have to suffer?"

His queen's dark eyes are suspiciously bright, enough that Rikash suspects a joke is being played on him. 

One wouldn't think of it to look at her - dark-haired, dark-eyed, hook-nosed, a striking beauty aged into regal grandeur with steel wings as sharp as ever - but Queen Barzha has a great (or terrible, depending on how you look at it and whether you're currently the subject of it) sense of humor.

"Well," she drawls, drawing out the words a thoroughly unnecessary extra few syllables in a way that definitely suggests that she's in a mischievous mood, "I think that's a question you have to ask yourself, really."

Ugh.

She's not wrong.

Rikash is a Lord now, after all. His Queen's left wing, her most loyal vassal (second only to her mate and not even then sometimes), etc. So when a score of the nation's Stromwings want to go frolicking in Temptation Lake and the Queen doesn't feel like going herself, that means he gets to babysit.

No, not babysitting. He _likes_ babysitting. 

Governing unruly Stormwings is more like trying to get a flock of cats to fly in formation.

Disaster. 

But his Queen's not wrong: no one made Rikash become a Lord. If anything, given his youth and inexperience, they probably would have told him not to challenge Tairn Bloodspill, the last Lord of the Stone Tree nation, at the full moon duels a scarce three months past.

He probably shouldn't have done it, in fact - Rikash is barely more than a chick, really, having not even had his First Molt, and Tairn was old enough to spin tales of the days before the barrier to the Mortal Realms had gone up - but Rikash hadn't liked the way Tairn used his power to push around the littler ones instead of protecting them. The chicks are so few in number, and they're the future of the nation, and Tairn just saw them as stepping stones. Or worse, if they were pretty - despite none of them yet being eligible for breeding!

So Rikash challenged him. 

(He should've just appealed the damn thing to the Queen instead of risking his life against Tairn's claws, but he'd lost his temper after the incident with Zusha.)

He'd figured, going into the fight, that at least this reckless action of his would make clear the extent of his disapproval, and anyway the challenged party doesn't _have_ to kill the challenger even though Tairn was steamed enough by Rikash's insolence (as he called it) that he probably would have.

Rikash was as surprised as anyone when he won the fight fair and square, going wing-to-wing with one of their nation's fiercest fighters, and after that, of course, there wasn't anything for it. Tradition is clear: too young or not, Rikash is the Lord now.

"Besides, what's the harm?" Queen Barzha continues, interrupting Rikash's gloomy musings. "If you use the Ley to get there, the Lake is hardly that far away. I don’t think there will be trouble – I've made clear that no one is to start anything with any of the other immortals or lesser gods, or else they face _me_. At any rate, they know to stay in the more isolated portion of the Lake, by the rocks. They just want to get out of the Abattoir for a bit. Spread their wings."

Rikash grumbles, picking at one of the stones in the ground to avoid agreeing aloud. He can understand that urge.

Don't get him wrong, he loves the Abattoir. Land on the far edges of the Divine Realms near to the Dragonlands, where the winding river seeps into the red sandstone to create a marsh the color of blood and the heat from the nearby Sea of Sand makes the mud boiling hot -

The Abattoir, where the Stormwings make their eyries.

He'll even profess to a more-than-usual fondness for his own particular corner of the Abattoir, where giant clawing twisted strands of raw diamond climb upon each other to create the great Stone Trees after which his nation is named and in which they alone are brave enough (or stupid enough) to make their nests.

Of course, Rikash has always been a bit of a homebody.

But even he's been feeling the pinch of Queen Barzha's (undoubtedly quite wise) restrictions not to go too far afield, not to start trouble as they were quite literally born to do, until things have calmed a little in the Divine Realms. An excursion would be nice.

But why does it have to be Temptation Lake?

"What's wrong with the lake?" Queen Barzha asks. For a second, Rikash thinks he was speaking aloud, but no - he's just being obvious again. Ugh. Queen Barzha keeps assuring him that he’s going to grow out of that eventually, but it clearly hasn’t happened yet. "You love the lake."

"I _did_ ," Rikash allows. "It's just..."

He flounders a bit. He can't just say what the real problem is: that he doesn't want to look at himself right now, and the reflection off the surface of Temptation Lake is as cuttingly sharp as any Stormwing feather.

"Ah," Queen Barzha, always able to read Rikash like he was a mountain with his feelings carved on its face, says wisely. "I see."

Now she's definitely laughing at him.

"You know the other Stormwings respect you for your ability," she says. "Not your appearance."

Rikash would like to know that - but vanity has always been a weakness of his particular ancestry. Why else would his last name be - of all un-Stormwing-like things - _Moonsword_?

Sentimental rubbish.

"Besides," Queen Barzha adds, eyes deceptively wide in an attempt to hide how the edges are crinkled with amusement, "it's really not that uncommon for a First Molt to come in later than expected -"

"I'm going! I'm going!" Rikash squawks, turning tail and taking to the air at once. He is _not_ having the puberty talk with his Queen!

Not again!

"Come on, you human-made kites!" he shouts down to the group of would-be travelers that'd been hanging around the edges of the valley jostling each other like a flock of goslings considering a barn-break. "You want to go or not?"

They take to the air in groups, nearly twenty Stormwings in all - a fine coterie. "How would you know what a human’s kite looks like?" one of them calls - Serje, hiding behind Gulant as if he thinks Rikash won't recognize his voice if there's a large female in the way. "You’re younger than the barrier – you’ve never seen one!"

"Neither have you, Serje," Rikash returns, smoothly enough. "Longing daydreams don't count."

That gets a few guffaws, which Rikash counts as a victory, and with that, they're off.

Temptation Lake is, in fact, nowhere near the Abattoir, or at least it wouldn’t be if you were measuring it as the Stormwing flies. But by chance the Ley this year has an opening near enough to both, and the travel Underhill between the dogfennel field not far from the Abattoir and the clover field less than a dozen minute’s flight from the Lake is almost instantaneous. 

In short: an easy journey, a pleasant one, and that means everyone is largely behaving themselves. That, in turn, leaves Rikash to brood over his belated First Molt.

It really isn't fair. He's a Lord now. He's got the whole honor and pride of his flock resting on his shoulders.

He should at least be able to do so with a bit of dignity.

But no. 

Rikash is of age, as Stormwings count the time; he never would have been allowed to make an official challenge otherwise. He’s capable of fighting, mating, having children, and even of being involved in political decisions – he can’t even be considered an adolescent anymore! But no. 

Despite all that, his body stubbornly refuses to make the final change to the adult form that he'll inhabit for the rest of eternity, or the rest of his life, depending on which ends first.

So while he likes to think that the human half of his appearance isn't all that unattractive - long blond hair with bones delicately and painstakingly braided in, leaf-green eyes, pale skin that becomes attractively mottled when he's splattered with blood-mud or the gore of a kill - the Stormwing half is...

Less satisfying.

He still has fuzz. Fuzz! The plump steel wool that characterizes the lower half of young Stormwings - and, depressingly enough, the chicks of a species of swim-bird called a "penguin" - is not exactly what one would call properly intimidating.

Yes, Rikash is well aware that his reputation of having defeated and killed a well-regarded fighter far older than himself is intimidating enough. Yes, he's aware that one day, without any warning, he'll suddenly start shedding feathers and the last lingering bits of chick fat at an alarming rate, fall asleep for several hours, and wake up both ravenous and looking like a proper adult. Yes, he's aware that he's still well within the reasonable age range for a First Molt, albeit nearing the top tail end of it - he's a full adult, after all, even if his body is taking its sweet old time to catch up with his mind. 

Yes, he's aware that his current concerns amount to little more than vanity. 

But really. How is he supposed to be taken seriously as the emissary of his nation if he can't take himself seriously?

And now he gets to go stare at his fuzzy lower half and his still-not-fully extended wingspan with suspiciously fluffy point-feathers in the perfect mirror that is the surface of the Lake and sulk about it.

Great.

At least his claws are still nice and sharp.

…right?

Suddenly anxious, Rikash splits off a little from the rest of his group when they land on the rocky cliffs by Temptation Lake. While they start splashing around in the little inlet they favor, he hops over to the water's edge to examine his claws. 

They're not _stubby_ , are they? He'll grow another few inches during his First Molt, but his claws should have already reached their final size - giving him a somewhat awkward gawky adolescent appearance, yes, but also suggestive of his future build. If he has stubby claws now, then he might not grow as tall as he hopes. Or worse, he'll end up as tall as his nest-sire, but _still_ have stubby claws...

No, they seem fine. Nice and long, flexible and sharp. Dare he flatter himself and think they're maybe even a little sharper than average...?

(Rikash has heard that in other species of the air such attractive features are divided by gender, permitting the females to laugh at the antics of the males who are always anxiously comparing themselves to each other. He's deeply relieved that that distinction does not apply to Stormwings, who are by and large _all_ inclined towards ridiculous claw-measuring contests. Even if female Stormwings do have an irritating tendency to go into First Molt earlier than males.)

Well, at least there's that. He may be short and skinny and fuzzy, but he's got good claws, and the rest will (hopefully) change in time. 

He just has to keep reminding himself of that.

He just has to -

Find out what's going on with his flock.

There's a commotion by the inlet, Stormwings suddenly taking air with war-screeches that sound more alarmed than anything else, ungainly flapping that suggests a sudden and urgent desire to get into the air. 

What's happened? Who would think it a good idea to attack a flock of Stormwings at rest, and why? Someone angry? A lesser god - another immortal -

"Stormwing Killer!" Jaiko screeches, wheeling uncharacteristically frantically as she climbs into the air.

Oh, no. 

Not her.

Rikash has heard stories of _her_. Veralidaine Sarrasri Weiyrnsra, wild mage of the Mortal Realm of Tortall. Half-god, half-human - slayer of Zhaneh Bitterclaw and half her flock - wielding arrows with a hunt-god's perfect aim - mastery over all manner of creatures - shape-changing skill of a quality that would make a chaos creature envious - 

A burning hatred of all Stormwings.

And for some reason she's not in the Mortal Realms where she usually spends her days but here, in the Divine Realms.

Going after Rikash's flock.

Not good!

Rikash leaps into the air. "Evasive!" he shouts, opting for the Stormwing tongue rather than Common in the hope that the Stormwing Killer will think he's merely cursing. Most Stormwing words sound like that, anyway. "Fly evasive _now_!" 

He's a bit too far to be heard perfectly, but Dubukk, nearer to him than the rest, takes up the cry until they've all heard.

Much to Rikash's relief, his flock actually obeys for once, settling into the unpredictable dart-and-stop flying that looks like a mad mob of starlings but which is unlike any natural animal flight, reliant on magic as well as wing, and thus even harder to predict. 

It's throwing the Stormwing Killer off her usual bloodthirsty instincts - three of Rikash's flock have arrows protruding from fleshy shoulders or backs, but no one is dead, not yet, but the Stormwing Killer will adjust quickly -

Rikash doesn't have anywhere near the magic or fighting skill Zhaneh Bitterclaws - a Queen in her own right, a proven warrior centuries old. He doesn't have the advantage of numbers - the Stormwing Killer has gone after far more than twenty Stormwings at once before, and those were ones that were organized into a war-band rather than out for a pleasure jaunt. He doesn't even have the element of surprise.

If he fights her, he will only lose.

But he can't just let her massacre his flock. 

He has to think of a way to stop her, even if only for long enough for his Stormwings to retreat - a way to distract her - to contain her -

But everyone knows you can't contain a shape-shifter.

No, that's not quite right - you can't contain a chaos creature that is bound to no shape at all, everyone knows _that_. But that still leaves the possibility that you _can_ contain a shape-shifter that's limited to the forms of mortal creatures - or at least, Rikash hopes so.

He catches a thermal and shoots up high into the sky above his frantically wheeling flock. "Keep flying mob-pattern for now, but be ready to retreat on my signal," he calls down to them. "You'll know what it is when you see it. Everyone, cover Dubukk, Aiko, and Gulant -" The strongest magic-casters of the flock. "- and the three of you, on the count of four, aim your fire-blasts ten feet above the Killer's head."

"Ten feet _above_?" Serje yells. "Have you lost your mind?"

Rikash ignores Serje's insubordination, but only because Serje has an arrow in his back that's no doubt causing him to panic even more than usual. He knows that he'll have to put Serje back in his place if they get out of here alive, but that's a problem for later. Right now, the goal is to ensure that they actually manage to get out of here alive.

"Three," he shouts. "Two - now!"

They cast fireballs of Stormwing magic, crimson and gold, at the Killer, who ducks, expecting the attack to be aimed at her.

It's not.

It's aimed at the rocky ridge right above her head.

But Stormwing war-magic won't be enough to knock that ridge down, not from a distance; it'll only loosen it enough so that someone could push those rocks free into a rockslide, if they were strong enough.

That's why Rikash got all that height: so that he could use magic, momentum and gravity all together to give himself the extra mass he needs to knock the whole thing down as he rams himself, body curled into a ball protected by steel wings, into the cliffside.

With a towering groan, the rocks give way, tumbling down on the Stormwing Killer.

Unfortunately for Rikash, his hare-brained scheme is a little _too_ effective, pulling rocks from above his head, and that means he can't get away fast enough, the rocks boxing him in as well and sending him tumbling down to the ground.

"Fly!" he manages to shout as he falls snout-over-wings, though it sort of devolves into a high-pitched screech towards the end there as rocks start thudding into him - no doubt offended by his rough treatment. He hopes his flock still heard him, assuming they're not bright enough to work out that the giant rockslide is the signal he was talking about.

And – yes! Even if his head is whirling, his magic sense still works, and he can feel his flock take to the air and beat wing on their way out of there. 

Well, most of them; a few just drop off the magical radar, suggesting shielding that would only be necessary if they weren't planning on going far. Rikash is torn between being annoyed that they're disobeying his orders to leave and being deeply, desperately grateful that they're not too far away in the event of an opportunity for rescue.

Even if chances are that the only thing they'll be rescuing is his corpse.

Gloomy prospects or no, Rikash pulls himself painfully out from under the rocks, hoping that they fell snugly enough on the Stormwing Killer to keep her trapped a little longer - just enough time for him to take to the air, or grab onto a magic-rope to be dragged away to safety.

No such luck.

The Stormwing Killer wiggles out of a small hole the rocks in the form of a rattle-tail serpent, hissing venomously and shaking its rattle death-call.

Rikash levers himself up to at least a perching position, even though he's too sore to take easily to the sky. She'd catch him, anyway - she's taken down more than one fleeing Stormwing, whether with arrows or with her eagle-form.

"Well, then," he says, sweeping a wing in front of him with more bravado than actual threat. "If you're going to kill me, I suggest you get on with it."

He's expecting a quick jab with the fangs to the fleshy parts of his throat next, or perhaps another form if she thinks the serpent too risky given the sharpness of his wings, but that's not what happens.

She turns human, instead.

Pink and fleshy and currently disarmed, but for the silver badger-claw around her neck.

Weird.

Rikash checks, bemusedly, wondering if - but no. 

"You're not out of magic," he says, now even more confused. "You can still shift. What, do you want to try murder by strangulation out? I'd recommend clothes before you try that - we don't exactly have many non-sharp edges to grab hold of."

The Stormwing Killer blinks at him like he's still talking Stormwing, even though he's quite certain that he switched to Common.

She's not really what he expected.

A mass of brown-hair curls, grey-blue eyes, salmon-peach skin that darkened by a few degrees to a blush red on the parts that see sun more than the rest - she doesn't even look all that old!

Not that he can trust that, of course. Gods are tricky with ages, and the godborn, their children with mortals, possibly even more so.

"Did you throw yourself at the mountain so that your friends could get away?" she asks suddenly, putting her hands on her hips.

Rikash blinks, taken aback by the accusing tone in her voice. "Um," he says. "Yes? Obviously? I'm the Lord; it's my responsibility to care for others before myself."

" _You're_ the Lord - no, hold up, before we get there, since when do Stormwings do _anything_ for others first?"

Rikash scowls at her, suddenly irritated. "Listen, not everyone's Zhaneh Bitterclaws, all right? Some of us know the meaning of honor."

"Honor," the Stormwing Killer echoes. She sounds doubtful.

"Yes, honor; I don't suppose you've ever heard of the concept -" Rikash says, automatically pulling his wings back to emphasize his point, only to realize belatedly that he's just given her an opening to lunge for his throat.

She doesn't take it.

"Honor," she says again, sounding oddly dazed. "I'm being lectured on not having honor by a Stormwing. By a Stormwing _chick_."

"I'm not a chick!" Rikash yowls, offended. "I'm almost an adult! And a Lord! You should be intimidated!"

Well, not her specifically, obviously, her being the Stormwing Killer and all that, but generally.

"But you've still got _fuzz_! You can't be intimidating with fuzz!"

"I knew it!" Rikash exclaims, beating his wings with annoyance. He can't help it. "Curse it, I _knew_ Queen Barzha was blowing hot air up my wings with all that nonsense about being respected for your ability instead of appearance -"

The Stormwing Killer is laughing at him.

Great.

"No, no! Don't sulk!" she says, wiping her eyes. "You're clearly _very_ capable! I don't think any Stormwing's tried knocking a mountain on me before. Where'd you think of that, anyway?"

"Seemed like the thing to do," Rikash says, suddenly aware that he's having a very strange conversation. "And it's not a _mountain_. It's barely even a cliff."

One of the rocks still above their heads gives a threatening sort of groan.

"Oh, don't _you_ start," Rikash snaps. "You know very well that you're a cliff; don't you start putting on airs or we'll make a point of fouling on you."

The rock shuts up, though there is a distinct air of annoyance.

"Are you really nearly an adult?" the Stormwing Killer asks.

Rikash pins her with a glare. "As it happens, yes," he says testily. "I'm overdue for my First Molt; that's all. By the law, I'm an adult - my body just needs a little longer to catch up."

She frowns. "First Molt?"

"When a chick - well, when anyone who isn't there yet, anyway - sheds their fuzz and wings and takes on the form they'll have forever until they die," Rikash says. "Don't you know that? You're the Stormwing Killer - don't you smash eggs or something?"

"I would never smash eggs! Any eggs, not even Stormwing eggs!" the Stormwing Killer exclaims, then pauses, reconsidering. "Well, chickens -"

"Chickens don't count. At the rate you humans have bred them to lay eggs, they'd take over the world if people didn't eat 'em."

"Chickens are pretty dumb, anyway," the Stormwing Killer agrees, then suddenly looks mildly horrified. “Wait. There’s a chicken god, isn’t there?”

“Oh, yes,” Rikash says, sympathetic with that horror despite himself. Chickens are obnoxious. “And not just the First Male and Female, either; they’ve got saints by the dozen –”

“You’re pulling my leg. You can’t be serious - _chickens_ -”

Right.

Rikash is talking about chickens with one of the most infamous murderer of Stormwings in the Mortal or Divine Realms.

This is officially the weirdest conversation Rikash has ever been a party too.

"Well," he says, spreading his wings. "If you're not going to kill me, I'm going to - leave now."

"No, wait -"

Rikash, idiot that he is, actually hesitates.

He can't believe himself sometimes.

"- don't go yet," she continues. "I have questions -"

"Then get them answered by someone who's got time to get murdered," Rikash snaps, finally pushed beyond tolerance. " _I've_ got duties."

And with that (somewhat) satisfying finish, he leaps into the air and beats the hastiest retreat he can.

He's out of arrow-shot range - even the Stormwing Killer's - when Zusha, Serje and Dubukk drop out of a cloud to fly beside him.

"Why aren't you dead?" Zusha asks. "I thought you'd be dead by now."

"Stormwing Killer wanted to chat instead of kill," Rikash tells her shortly. There is no way he's going to tell her that the Stormwing Killer thought he was a _chick_ and took pity. "Maybe she drank from the Lake and was tempted to talkativeness."

"Bet she wanted to know how to get to the Abattoir," Serje grumbles.

Rikash rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't have told her even if she'd asked, which she didn't. Why are _you_ here, anyway? You wouldn't even dung my bones if I died, much less give a mourning cry."

"The arrow in his back hit the dorsal muscle," Dubukk says calmly. "He won't be able to fly all the way home without help, or at least some time to heal with the arrow removed, and we wanted to stay to see what happened."

Dubukk has always been very phlegmatic and straightforward for a Stormwing - direct, honest, and refreshingly blunt, in a way that initially irritated and ultimately endeared him to just about everyone who met him.

Rikash supposes that explains why even Serje, who doesn't like anyone, likes him, but it doesn't explain why Dubukk likes Serje back. 

Easily the weirdest pairing in the flock.

"We should land," Dubukk adds. "Get it out."

"We _should_ fly home," Zusha scoffs. 

"I can't," Serje hisses. "My wing's about to _fall off_."

Rikash cuts his eyes at Serje, hoping that was an exaggeration but no, he's actually flying straight-winged and magic-reliant. Even the flight to the Ley would be excruciating with that arrow in place - he's only staying aloft now with Dubukk's help.

And they _did_ stay for him.

"Fine," Rikash says. "We land, we get the arrow out, we go. Help him down."

Zusha rolls her eyes, but agrees. 

They land in the forest behind the Lake. Serje doesn't bother perching in a tree, just goes straight to ground, slouching painfully. Dubukk lands next to him, already twisting his magic into a delicate net to tug the arrow out.

Zusha lands on a branch, sneering down at them, but Rikash hops down onto a raised root to supervise, even though it's a bit more uncomfortable. 

"You've got it?" he asks, shifting from side to side. He doesn't _like_ Serje, but he doesn't want him to lose a wing, either.

Sure, if it ends up going badly they'll just commission him a prosthetic and he'll be fine, but he'll make everyone else's life miserable in the meantime.

"I've got it," Dubukk says absently. He's one of the strongest magic-casters in the flock, thanks to his obsessive focus on his special interests, so Rikash believes him. It'd just be nice to actually see some progress, that's all - Rikash doesn't want to be this close to the Lake, and the Stormwing Killer, for any longer than he has to.

Especially when the forest around them cuts off their line of sight for oncoming arrows, and the noises make it hard to detect anyone's approach.

Well, hard for _them_ , anyway.

Rikash glances at the tree they've landed on. Not a First, luckily - that'd be trouble - but pretty old, and hopefully inclined towards practicality.

"If you warn us before anyone approaches, we'll carry your fruit for you," he murmurs to the bark. "Anywhere you like, or just further on our travels."

The tree doesn't react for a long moment, then shakes its branches just the slightest bit, agreeing.

"Zusha -"

"I'm on it, I'm on it," she says. "It's fine: I was getting hungry anyway."

"We feed on _fear_ , Zusha," Serje growls at her. "You can't be getting hungry for tree-fruit."

"Maybe _you_ feed on fear," she says haughtily, already cutting some of the tree’s fruit off. " _I_ feed on a wide range of negative human emotion, and also fruit. Fear doesn't fill your bowels, you know."

Rikash rolls his eyes at their bickering - Stormwings love to argue more than just about anything else in the world, so it's a good sign - and starts to relax. As long as the tree is sincere about keeping a root out for them, they'll get advance warning if -

The tree shakes.

Rikash's wings go up at once, a defensive posture, and he immediately casts out his magic, searching for the person approaching, eyes' turned towards the dark of the woods in the hope of seeing -

A dragon?

A dragon kitling?

"Hey, you there! Are you all right?" Rikash says, immediately concerned. He hops off his branch and over to where the kitling in question is not-very-successfully trying to conceal herself in a bush, which might even have worked if her movement hadn't caught his attention. "What are you doing here all alone? Don't you know it's dangerous?"

"Babysitter," Zusha mocks, almost instinctively, but she throws down some fruit. "Give her some of that: she's probably hungry."

The kitling raises her head and eyes them both with a strangely familiar expression of bewilderment. Rikash swears he's seen something like that before, but he's not sure where.

The Abattoir lies alongside one of the borders of the Dragonlands, so undoubtedly it was someone there, but he would swear it was more recent than that.

"Have some redfruit," Rikash tells the kitling, nodding at what Zusha'd thrown. "Don't worry; it won't interfere with your digestion - the tree's agreed."

_...thanks_ , the kitling says. _I'm not hungry, though._

"Kittens your age are _always_ hungry," Zusha says. "Rikash, look at her - she can't be two decades old yet!"

"Did your guardian take you out and get distracted conducting an experiment?" Rikash asks. He more than most knows how dragons can get. "They should know better; Temptation Lake's safe enough, but it's not _that_ safe. Letting a kitling wander…! Disgraceful."

The kitling still looks unduly bewildered.

"You don't need to worry; we're Stone Tree," Rikash reassures her. "We've got child-watching contracts with almost all the Borderlands dragon clans -"

"And Rikash here's a Moonsword," Zusha agrees. "Babysitting's in their blood, especially dragons - that's how they got that ridiculous last name."

_Your last name is_ Moonsword? the kitling asks, delighted. _Really? I thought they were all Blood-death and Killing-spree and such like that._

"My ancestors were sentimental," Rikash grumbles. "They fostered a dragon during the great Dragon Wars whose name had ‘Moon’ in it and she gave them the name, and now no one will ever change it."

"Your lot still get free passage into the Dragonlands just about any time you want," Zusha objects. "That's not a bad trade."

"Easy enough to say when your last name's something respectable like Sharpclaw."

"Well, yes, my name is objectively _better_ , but -"

The kitling is giggling. _You're funny_ , she says in that little croak-chirp dragons her age favor for spoken speech. _You're not supposed to be funny!_

Rikash grins at her. Even for a Stormwing - and they're a species known for their unusual willingness to babysit just about everyone's young - he's always been fond of children.

"It’s a secret," he informs her conspiratorially. "Don't tell, or no one’ll be afraid of us anymore. Now, come out of there and we'll take you back home to the Dragonlands."

_I can't go there yet_ , the kitling objects. _I've got business here._

But she does crawl out to grab the fruit, though she turns it around in her hands like a raccoon instead of eating it.

"Business, hmm?" Rikash asks, amused. Dragons are always so endearingly precocious at this age. "Are you a scientist already, then, or -"

"Rikash!" Zusha hisses, suddenly alarmed. "She's got spots!"

"What? Where?"

_I don't have spots_ , the kitling says. _What's she talking about?_

"Left flank, by the tail," Zusha says. "Twist your head and you can see it, kitten."

_How'd you know my nickname?_ the kitling asks, but she's twisting to look at her left flank, which is in fact covered with ugly, pulsing red-black spots. _And where'd those come from?!_

"You must've walked through a particularly nasty chaos-vent," Rikash says, aiming for reassuring. "And all dragons your age are called kitlings or kittens; it's not hard to guess."

"Don't worry," Zusha says, sounding worried. "You're a dragon, even at its worse a bit of chaos-muck won't do more than make you sick for a decade or two -"

_A decade or two?!_

"Zusha, you're not helping," Rikash says sternly. "Kitling, come hop on my back; I'll take you up into the upper atmosphere to see if we can sear it off there."

"That's a terrible idea," Serje says, butting in at the worst possible time. "Do you have a death wish or something, Rikash? This is the second plan that could lead to you being dead in as many hours!"

"She's no more than three decades old, Serje!" Privately, Rikash agrees with Zusha's guess of less than two, maybe a decade and a half at most, but young dragons liked to be thought a little older. "Her scales aren't hard enough to resist a chaos-scourge yet; we need to get it cleaned off before it has a chance to dig in deeper - or spread to anyone else."

_It’s called chaos-scourge?_ the kitling asks, sounding upset. _And it can spread?_

"You don't need to worry about spreading it to me," Rikash assures her. "We Stormwings are particularly resistant to chaos-sickness, thanks to our nature as war-birds. Wouldn't be much good at our jobs if we got carried away with war-madness every time we saw a battlefield, would we? Now hop on."

"This is stupid," Serje says. "Just take her back to the Dragonlands and let her sleep it off; who cares if she misses a few decades - ouch!"

"Stop wiggling," Dubukk orders.

"And stop being an onion-for-brains," Zusha says. "Early years are important in a dragon's development. Go on, kitten; you'll feel much better when you and Rikash get back. And shut up, Serje; just because you're not a good enough flyer to handle upper atmosphere doesn't mean Rikash can't."

Rikash appreciates Zusha's confidence.

"Besides, he's still got his fuzz," Zusha adds. "That should help protect him."

He does not appreciate that.

_Is it really that serious?_ the kitling asks.

"Depends," Serje says, rolling his eyes. "Do you like having a tail and a leg, or do you prefer to wait until the chaos-scourge has eaten into the muscle and bone until -"

The kitling gives a croak-call that temporarily turns one of Serje's wings to stone.

"Hey!"

"Serje, stop acting like a egg-fresh chick," Rikash says, dispelling the stone-song with a blast of scarlet fire. Dubukk, working right beside that wing, doesn't even blink. "Kitling, while you can ignore Serje, this maneuver will work better the sooner we do it. Just climb on my back - you're no more than three feet long; you can even put your muzzle on my shoulder to see where we're going if you want."

She twists to looks at her leg and tail again, shudders, then clambers on. _You'd better not be playing a trick on me_ , she warns. _I've got tricks of my own._

"I wouldn't dream of it," Rikash says, mostly honestly - he's played his share of pranks on the dragonkind, but not someone this young or this sick - and takes to the air as fast as magic and wings will let him.

_How will flying up high help, anyway?_ the kitling asks, insatiably curious in the way all dragons are.

"We're not just flying high," Rikash explains. "We're going to the very barrier between the Divine Realms and the Voidlands, where Father Universe and Mother Flame reside."

_The Voidlands? I've never even heard of those!_

"You wouldn't, not until you're old enough to fly. Dragons are always worried about their kitlings trying to go too high on their first flight - apparently it's something of a rite of passage, getting the wits scared out of you right before you take to the air."

_Scared? What's in the Voidlands that's scary? Isn't it just Father Universe and Mother Flame there?_

Rikash shrugs, even as he beats his wings harder to make less progress - the air is thinning already. "Some people say that the Threefold Realms - Mortal, Divine and Death, since no one ever counts the Dragonlands separately even though it technically is - are only one of the many creations of Father Universe and Mother Flame's get, and that if you go deep into the Voidlands you'll find earlier versions, filled with horrors beyond imagining. Or maybe you'll just freeze to death in the Void itself, it being a breathless, lifeless, heatless place, and the only alternative being burning to death in the heart of one of Mother Flame's many stars."

_Sounds interesting._

"If I ever doubted that you were a dragon..."

The air is definitely getting thinner. He pushes further up, faster, and the first shimmers of Voidfrost start to form on his wings.

Damn Zusha's claws, but the fuzz really does help insulate him a little.

_It's cold. Colder than winter._

"Nothing survives in the Void," Rikash explains. He needs to take big, gulping breaths, but judging by the kitling’s terrified tone, he's pretty sure she needs reassurance more. "But especially not the stuff of chaos. That's what we're trying to do - get just high enough to freeze it off, but not too high that we can't come back down."

The kitling shoves her muzzle under Rikash's long blond hair, clearly not wanting to think about it. _You've done this before, right?_

"Absolutely," Rikash assures her. He's definitely done it at least twice before. 

Not quite as high as he's planning on going now, mind, but whatever.

"I'm going to make us breathers now," he adds, forming scarlet bubbles over the kitling's head and his own mouth. The magic is an additional strain, which is why he waited so long and didn’t make a full bubble around them both, but it's starting to get difficult enough to breathe that he doesn’t want to do without it. "Look up and see if you can see Mother Flame dancing."

_Dancing? What do you mean, dancing? How can a bodiless power be dancing -_

The kitling suddenly falls quiet.

She's just seen what Rikash means: the great dance of the stars, spinning endlessly in Father Universe's void, swirls of light and color, being born and dying and living all at once, a cacophony of frenzied movement that's silent only because they don't have the ears to hear the songs they're singing.

_It's - beautiful._

"The raw stuff in which chaos is continually reborn," Rikash says, secretly pleased that the kitling appreciates it. "The Great Gods don't like it much, having declare themselves Heralds of Order and the mortal enemies of Uusoae, Queen of Chaos, but it's not all that bad, is it?"

_No. Not that bad at all...that's really chaos? I thought - well._

He doesn’t need her to fill in the rest; he knows as well as anyone how children’s stories tend to focus on how chaos is bad and harmful.

"Too much chaos is bad for anyone - yes, even Stormwings - and with the chaos vents lying around all over it's easier to teach children just to avoid it," Rikash explains. "But it's still necessary – and what a sight to see..! Besides, look, your tail's already doing better."

Wiggling ensues, the kitling eeling around to look at her left flank again. Almost no spots left.

_Great! Does that mean we can go down now?_

"What, you don't want to see more?" Rikash jokes.

_I do! But Dai- er, my guardian will be worried about me if I'm gone too long._

"Fair enough," Rikash agrees. You don't want to get on the wrong side of a dragon parent, that's for sure. "Hold on tight; this is the fun part."

Also the part where he might die, yes, but Rikash loves the descent back into atmosphere. He's just enough of a mage to wrap his whole body in scarlet fire meant to protect him and his passenger, and that means he can just fold up his wings, give himself a magic push away from the Void, and drop like a stone thrown into a canyon.

Well, assuming that that stone also caught on fire from the friction on the way down.

Reentry is the _best_.

_Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

Looks like the kitling agrees. 

Rikash reluctantly spreads his wings when they're just above the forest, bringing their abrupt descent to a sudden halt and coasting the rest of the way down to the clearing he left the others in.

"Now, in the future, be a bit more careful with the vents," he starts to say as he comes in for a landing. "And stay by your guardian; there's dangerous folk running about -"

"Drop her! Now!"

Oh, blood and gore, it's the thrice-damned Stormwing Killer again, and she's got her bow out.

"Are you stalking us or something?" Rikash demands irritably, ignoring his instinctive wave of fear at the sight of that bow. No way he can get out of her shot range quickly, especially not with a dragon kitling on his back; the only way out of this is to brazen his way through it. "At least let me drop off the kitling with her guardian, yes? You don't have a war with dragons - or at least, you don't _yet_ , and you really don't want one, trust me."

_Um_ , the kitling says. _Actually. There's something I probably should've mentioned earlier..._

"Kitten," the Stormwing Killer says in a very different tone. "What are you doing riding on that Stormwing? Get off this instant."

_He was helping me!_ the kitling protests. _I like him!_

"You can't like him! He's a Stormwing!"

_Well, I still like him anyway, so there._

"Kitten!"

Rikash's head twists between the kitling on his shoulder and the Killer and he abruptly realizes, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, what's going on.

"You're _Skysong_?!" he squawks. "Flamewing's kit? The one being raised in the Mortal Realms by the Stormwing Killer? Why didn't you say so?"

_It's not that important..._

"Of course it's important!" Serje howls from where he's hidden himself in the trees. "You could've just gone back to the Mortal Realms to get rid of the chaos-scourge, without bringing the Stormwing Killer down on our heads! That's gratitude for you, that, getting us killed when we were only trying to be friendly!"

" _You_ weren't being friendly," Zusha's voice grumbles from another tree. " _We_ were being friendly."

_She's not going to kill any of you_ , Skysong says, rolling her eyes.

"Uh, Kitten," the Stormwing Killer says. "What are you talking about? Of course I am."

_They saved my life! You're not killing them._

If Rikash had any doubts about whether the Stormwing Killer really is Skysong’s rightful guardian, the aggravated expression on her face as she digests Skysong's scolding makes it clear enough.

"She walked through a chaos-vent and got some chaos-scourge on her," he tells the Stormwing Killer, unable to keep from rubbing it in. "You're supposed to be her guardian, aren't you? Take better care of her and we won't need to take her on flights to fix it."

"Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith," the girl groans, but lowers her bow. "You are the _strangest_ Stormwing I've ever met. If you didn't stink to high heaven, I'd've gotten concerned you weren't a Stormwing at all!"

"Says the girl who smells of _onions_ ," Zusha growls.

"I'm done!" Dubukk suddenly announces. "The arrow's out; we can go home now. Wait, who's the girl? And where'd the dragon kitling come from?"

"Dubukk," Zusha says, exasperated. "I mean this as kindly as I can, but how in the pits of the Black God have you made it to adulthood?!"

"He was focusing!" Serje snaps back, immediately furious in his friend's defense. "You know he doesn't notice other things when he's focusing! Leave him be!"

"Are _any_ of you normal?" the Stormwing Killer asks, putting her hands on her hips. "Did you drink some tainted water? Do Stormwings turn nice when they go rabid or something?"

"Says the _Stormwing Killer_ ," Zusha says. "You're what happens when _humans_ go rabid."

"Hey!"

"Now, Zusha, really," Rikash says. "You should at least be accurate with your insults. She's a rabid _godborn_ , not a human."

" _Hey!_ Stop calling me rabid!"

_I like them_ , Skysong declares.

"Kitten!"

_What? They're funny!_

"They're _Stormwings_! They're evil!"

"That's kind of prejudiced," Dubukk remarks. "Doesn't anyone else think that's prejudiced?"

"Something in the water," the Stormwing Killer mutters, releasing her bow to rub at her face. "I swear. Kitten, just get off of him already, okay? And then we can just - go. Our way. In peace. While the Stormwings go - wherever they're going."

"Sounds fine to me," Rikash says hastily. "We're just going to head on home now that Serje's wing is working again. In fact, we should be going now -"

An extremely loud clanging noise rips through the air, sending all of them - Stormwings, dragon, and godborn alike - to the ground with their wings by their ears to try to block it out.

"You have _got_ to be kidding!" Zusha exclaims when the noise has finally faded. "They can't do that!"

"Do what?" the Stormwing Killer asks, uncovering her ears. She's not as intimidating when she's sitting on her ass looking shell-shocked. "What _was_ that?"

"That," Serje says bitterly, "was the Great Gods being useless flatulent magic-bags whose temples should be fouled on a regular basis."

"That was the _Great Gods_? Doing _what_?"

"Announcing that they're closing the Ley," Rikash says. He can't believe how bad his luck is today. "With no explanation as to why, either."

"Since when do the Great Gods explain themselves to mere immortals?" Zusha asks, rolling her eyes. "Or lesser gods. Or anyone..."

"But if they close the Ley," Dubukk says, frowning, "that means we can't take the Ley to get home."

"What's the Ley?" the Stormwing Killer asks.

Rikash looks at her, certain she's joking, but no - she seems in earnest. "The Ley," he says blankly. "Everyone's favorite shortcut. A ‘ley’ is a seasonal field, planted somewhat at random throughout the Divine Realms every year, but since they're all connected through the ley-lines, you can go into one field and come out of another after a quick trip Underhill. It’s called the Ley."

She scowls. "There's a _shortcut_ to get around the Divine Realms? Well, that's a load of hogswash; no one told me about a shortcut!"

"Well, there isn't one _now_ ," Serje says. "Weren't you paying attention? The Great Gods just closed it!"

"It's absolute gods' droppings, that's what it is," an angry voice buzzes from nearby. Eluwilussit, the scarlet-bodied wasp moth god that tends to feed off of the dogfennel field near the Abattoir, comes flying out of the forest a moment later. "I came to visit Tsikenithèserak, the green lacewing, in the clover field to consult on the issues with her larva, and now I'm stuck until they open it again! No consideration at all!”

“They could’ve at least warned us,” Zusha agrees. 

“At least we weren’t flying into the field when they closed it,” Dubukk says. “Then we might’ve been trapped Underhill.”

“Is that even possible? The transport through the Ley is instantaneous.”

“Sure, it _seems_ instantaneous. But do we know that it actually is?”

They all pause to consider some unpleasant possibilities.

“Well,” Rikash says after a moment, shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. “Now that I’ve hit my quota for disturbing thoughts for the day, with thanks as always to Dubukk, we need to figure out what we’re doing next. Queen Barzha’s instructions were very clear that we shouldn’t be starting any trouble with other gods while the war is ongoing, but there’s no way three and a half able-bodied Stormwings –”

“Who are you calling a half?!” Serje howls, correctly identifying the target of that particular insult.

“– are going to make the whole long flight home without the Ley without someone starting something with _us_ ,” Rikash concludes, ignoring him. 

_Why would someone start something?_ Skysong asks.

“Stormwings are not exactly popular,” Zusha says dryly. “Besides, we’d be trespassing, and gods get really touchy about it when it’s another immortal rather than a fellow god. Without at least one member of the group having a god-mark to act as a passport, you don’t need to do more than just fly through to start something.”

“I have a god-mark,” the Stormwing Killer says. “My da’s.”

“Good for you,” Serje snaps. “Not exactly relevant to _us_ , now is it?”

“No, I meant – why don’t you travel with me?”

They stare at her.

She arches her eyebrows at them. “What? If I’m in your group, then you don’t have as much trouble passing through, right?”

“Why,” Rikash says, fluffing up his feathers a bit, “in the name of all the wars that have ever been fought, do you think that we would want to travel with _you_? The whole point of the discussion is how to get through the Divine Realms _without_ dying, not a request for help committing suicide.” 

The Stormwing Killer looks mildly offended. “Hey, I’m not trying to kill you right now, am I?”

“We helped your fosterling, you owe us,” Zusha says dismissively. “You’re the Stormwing Killer. That’s what you _do_. It’s in the _name_.”

“The – my _name_ is Daine!”

“I thought it was supposed to be Veralidaine,” Dubukk says.

“It’s a nickname,” Serje tells him. 

“Oh, right.”

“You can just call her Stormwing Killer like the rest of us, though,” Zusha assures him.

The Stormwing Killer – Daine, apparently – crosses her arms. “Well, if you take that attitude, we’re definitely not getting anywhere.”

“What good would it do you to travel with us? Why would you _want_ to?” Rikash asks. “Most of the time people can’t wait to get away."

Daine shrugs. "Well, for one thing, I clearly need someone who knows their way around. My da gave me a map and the badger took me as far as he could, before he needed to go back to his sett, but I was on my own for less than a day before getting into - uh, into trouble. If I'd known about things like shortcuts, that would've made things much easier."

"And you want to travel with _us_?"

"Given that Kitten has _still_ not jumped off your back, I'm not sure I have much of a choice," Daine says dryly. "I'm old enough to have learned when to back off a fight I won't win. And why not you? You clearly know the lay of the land, and you haven't tried to kill me yet. Unless you're planning on waiting until I'm asleep?"

"No," Rikash says. "That wouldn't be..."

He trails off.

"Honorable?" Daine asks, looking smug.

"Well, yes."

"So why not? My god-mark, your guidance. How about it?"

Rikash glances at the other three. They look as lost as he does.

Unfortunately for him, it's not _their_ decision to make.

And yes, that seemed like an acceptable trade - her god-mark to get them through the Realms in exchange for their knowledge of the terrain.

But...

"Why are you even here in the Divine Realms?" Rikash demands. "You’re usually in the Mortal Realms, aren’t you?”

“I got pulled through during the solstice,” Daine says, tone vague enough that it’s clear she’s hiding something. “The war in Tortall’s not going well –”

“There is no war in Tortall,” all four of the Stormwings immediately chorus.

Daine blinks, taken aback.

“Some guerrilla fighting and sabotage at most,” Rikash clarifies. “We’re Stormwings; we always know where there’s a battle.”

Daine frowns. “The fleet off Port Legann –”

“The invading fleet was scattered by an early storm,” Zusha says gloomily. “No battle. There’s some nice infighting going on up in Scanra, but that’s within their borders.”

“Sarain’s got some good stuff,” Dubukk offers. “But then, they always do. Nice people there.”

“What about the blockade? The starvation –”

“Starvation’s not war,” Serje sniffs. “Don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, and don’t try to tell a Stormwing where there’s war.”

Daine shakes her head. "Well, that sure is a useful skill," she remarks. "I've been trying to puzzle out what’s going on through dreams and water-visions. How about Carthak, any war there? Rebellion?"

"Down in the southern provinces," Rikash says. "And the potential for more if the rebels in the capital ever get their act together - but we've been waiting for _that_ for years already."

"No kidding," Daine says, sounding disgusted. "We thought after we took down Ozorne there'd be change, but nope, no luck, instant coup by the military and now they're in charge and it's even _worse_ -"

"Is it true that you fed him to a pack of hyenas?" Rikash asks, unable to restrain his curiosity. In some ways he’s as bad as a dragon, he realizes that, but she seems to be willing enough to talk about it; he’s not passing up the opportunity. "In the middle of peace talks?"

"Well, to be perfectly fair, he'd already betrayed the peace talks himself – and I didn’t _feed_ him to anyone, the hyenas went and ate him all on their own initiative – "

_We're here to help try to stop the war_ , Skysong interrupts with a shrill cheep, rolling her eyes at Daine. _Not any specific human war, the bigger one. Carthak and Scanra and all that, they're bad enough, but there's a bunch of immortals helping them, and we think they're working with Chaos._

"Kitten!" Daine squawks. 

"What, working with _Uusoae_?" Zusha asks, beating her wings. "Why would anyone work with Uusoae? That's a terrible decision! She wants to eat _everything_!"

"Uh, yes," Daine says, looking surprised. "I mean, _we_ think it’s a terrible idea. Humans, I mean. And the Great Gods do, too. That's why I'm here - they want to find whoever is working with Uusoae, and I want to stop the immortal leaders working against Tortall, so it made sense for me to come here, and, well -"

"Oh, so you're here to assassinate them," Dubukk says. "That makes sense."

"It's not that!"

"Isn't it?" Serje asks.

Daine considers it. "...yeah, a bit," she says, looking mildly disturbed. "I guess I hadn't really thought about it that way, but I'm here to kill a list of specific immortals, so I guess it _is_ that. Is that a problem?"

"I mean, not really?" Rikash says. "Seems reasonable enough."

"It - does?"

"Did you really expect Stormwings to balk at a little assassination?" Zusha asks. "Somehow I doubt it. You can do what you like."

"We should help," Dubukk says.

"Dubukk!" Rikash exclaims. "We might travel with her, but we're certainly not _helping_ her."

"Why not?" he asks. "If one of them's working with Uusoae, it's in all our best interests to keep them from doing that. It never ends well."

Zusha and Serje look at Rikash, who - really doesn't have a good answer to that.

"Well," he says. "I mean. I guess?"

"Wait," Daine says. "You'd really be willing to help me out in stopping Chaos?"

"Well, our eyries are on the borders," Rikash says hastily, not wanting to appear weak. "We'd be the first ones eaten. Our own self-interest, really. Stormwings are great believers in preemptive strikes."

_I told you they were nice!_ Skysong cheeps happily.

"You said no such thing, Kitten."

_Well, they_ are. _They'll even help! And Stormwings are good at killing._

"We're scavengers, not killers," Rikash corrects. "But Dubukk's right. Sometimes something needs killing, and anyone helping Uusoae's on that list."

"Rabid," Zusha agrees.

"I guess we're helping, then," Rikash says. He's not sure how they got to this point.

"I don't know about this," Serje objects, his feathers all raised in alarm. "She's the Stormwing Killer, remember? One of the immortals she's after, maybe more, is almost certainly a Stormwing."

Rikash looks at Daine. "Well?"

"I mean," she says. "Yes. Just one - a Queen named Jachull -"

Serje's feathers click back into place audibly as he relaxes. "Oh, well, _her_. That’s not so bad. No one likes _her_."

"Queen Barzha says that she's an empty void where a Stormwing ought to be," Rikash agrees.

"I met her once," Zusha puts in. "It's true."

"Can we help kill her in specific?" Dubukk asks. "I heard she eats her own young."

Daine is smiling.

It's - a surprisingly good look on her. The lines of stress fade, revealing the humor at the corners of her mouth and in the crinkle of her blue-grey eyes, framed by long dark lashes that set them off well; the aggressive set of her shoulders eases into a soft curve to a slender neck and a stubborn chin. She stands steady and centered, not easily moved; her callused hands curl almost like claws even after she puts away the bow. 

She's almost Stormwing-like, really, once the stress of humanity has melted away.

...that was a strange thought.

Rikash has no idea where it came from, and he dismisses it right away. If they're going to make it back home with the Stormwing Killer in their party, he's going to need to be on his sharpest wingturns the whole time, not thinking stupid thoughts.

Especially since it’s pretty obvious that Daine is hiding something from them.


	2. 2

Daine insists on them coming back with her to her camp by the Lake before they head out, which Serje agrees to very quickly, as if he thinks Rikash will object to spending a nice night nesting before travelling. 

Daine’s camp is small but respectable, with a bedroll and a small banked fire and a little bag that Skysong – she apparently _likes_ it when Daine calls her Kitten, which makes her the first of her age group to do so in Rikash’s experience – immediately goes to curl up in, falling fast asleep within moments. 

She snores in cheeps.

“I don’t have any perches or anything,” Daine says apologetically as she sets a small flame going once again. “Not even roots –”

“It’s fine,” Rikash assures her. “We can dig pits.”

“Pits?”

“Ground-nests,” Zusha says. “We can use ‘em in a pinch. We prefer proper nests, of course, in trees or eyries, but these claws of ours are decent diggers, though you might not think so.”

“I’ve never seen Stormwings do that,” Daine comments.

“Did you ever watch them long before you killed them?” Dubukk asks.

Daine rolls her eyes.

“He’s being sincere,” Serje says, ‘accidentally’ kicking some dirt in her direction. “Dubukk doesn’t ask rhetorical questions.”

“You should answer him,” Rikash agrees. “He’ll just keep asking, otherwise.”

Daine looks surprised, then pensive. “No,” she says. “I don’t suppose I did much, at that.”

Dubukk nods. “Thought so,” he says. “Serje, want to take first scout with me?”

Serje nods and leaps into the air, wings beating, and the two of them sail out of sight.

“Aren’t I supposed to assign scout shifts?” Rikash asks, watching them go. “Or something like that?”

“It’s always best if they volunteer,” Daine says, sounding amused. “Trust me. Count your blessings while they last.”

Zusha snorts. “That, or remember to assign it _before_ they volunteer.”

Out of lack of any better response, Rikash decides to follow Serje’s example and kicks some dirt at her. 

“What’s going on with him, anyway?” Daine asks. “Dubukk, I mean?”

“What do you mean?” Rikash asks, quickly turning to face Daine before Zusha has a chance to retaliate with some dirt of her own. “He’s a bit blunt, yes, but that’s just because he doesn’t always understand the subtleties of body language and sarcasm sometimes. You get used to it.”

“No, I meant – his eyes. He doesn’t look anyone in the eyes. Why not? Is he blind?”

“No,” Rikash says, bemused. “He just doesn’t like to do that, so he doesn’t.”

“Huh. And that thing he does, when he rocks back and forth?”

Rikash and Zusha glance at each other and shrug. 

“Just a Dubukk thing, I think,” she says. “Though didn’t Vekkat’s sire use to do something like that, too?”

“I think it’s just a thing some people do sometimes,” Rikash agrees. “If it makes him more comfortable, that’s his business.”

Daine considers this. “Makes sense to me,” she says a moment later, a touch wistfully. “Humans aren’t near as easy going as that, you know. They’d’ve classified him as a half-wit.”

“We’re war-birds born from human nightmares,” Zusha says wryly, “and even we don’t understand how convoluted human biases work. It’s like they hate _everything_.”

Daine huffs a laugh. “Some of ‘em do. But you can’t tell me Stormwings _don’t_.”

“Some of us do,” Rikash says with a shrug. “Some of us don’t. We’re immortals, not gods – there’s a wide variety of us, not just a handful of representative figures.”

“I guess,” Daine says. “I’m still not entirely sure you lot didn’t just drink some weird water or something. Speaking of which, how about you take pity on my poor human nose and take a bath?”

“There’s nowhere decent to bathe here,” Rikash says.

“That giant lake not ten feet yonder doesn’t do it for you?”

“We’re not going to bathe in Temptation Lake at night,” Zusha scoffs. “The whole point is _not_ to start fights, remember?”

“What’s wrong with it at night?”

“Same thing that’s wrong with it during the day, except with worse peripheral vision,” Rikash says dryly. “Are the Mortal Realms so safe, then, that you jump into lakes without thinking twice?”

Daine barks a laugh. “No, not really,” she says. “Have you never been to the Mortal Realms?”

“Only a few times. Queen Barzha is wary of the holes in the barrier, and of the human control thereof,” Rikash explains. “We’re taking a wait-and-see position for now. Better than being trapped like the ogres or the hurroks.”

“But Carthak has an alliance with the Stormwings -”

“ _Some_ Stormwings,” Rikash says. “We sent an ambassador to see the lay of the land when the barrier was opened, a Stormwing called Jokhun Foulreek. He came back singing the praises of a possible alliance with the humans –”

“– and then he tried to lure our Queen and her mate into a human trap so that he could pretend to have killed her in a rightful challenge and become our king,” Zusha concludes. “They were planning on putting them into a _menagerie_. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, the purpose was to hold them over Jokhun’s head to ensure the alliance continued no matter what the cost to the nation.”

“Our one and only war-raid on the Mortal Realms,” Rikash says nostalgically. “It was fun.”

“Menagerie,” Daine muses. “You know, Ozorne had supposedly collected a menagerie of immortals, but when we were given the tour, the guide explained that one of the immortals had gotten loose and destroyed that portion of the palace grounds, and they’d decided the experiment was too dangerous to resume.”

“ _One_ got loose? Hah! More like all of them,” Zusha says, grinning. “We ripped those cages apart bar by bar.”

“That explains why that area smelled so bad,” Daine says, amused. “I went hyena for a while there, and _phew_! They have noses that put the rest of us to shame.”

“Did you eat any of him?” Rikash asks, curious. “Ozorne? If you were in hyena form?”

“I let the real hyenas do that,” Daine says. 

“Weak,” Zusha sniffs. 

“Oh, I was tempted, don’t get me wrong,” Daine says, shaking her head. Her brown curls are dark and inviting in the firelight. “I was eighteen when we went, and I’d been fighting off Carthaki attacks, backed by immortals, since I was thirteen. It took years of slow, grinding effort to convince the other Eastern Lands that Carthak was behind it – a small ‘pirate invasion’ here; a ‘rebellion encouraged by rogue elements’ there; bribes and blackmail to corrupt our nobility paid for by Carthaki gold but laundered through a dozen sources; traps of all sorts and a whisper campaign designed to limit the number of volunteers for the knighthood or Queen’s Riders; a really shockingly high number of small bands of disaffected veterans soldiers unaffiliated with the Carthaki military or with the College, if they were mages, all launching well-organized, well-funded, and well-supported attempts to sow trouble…you get the gist.”

“A slow corrosion.”

“Yeah. Little by little, they made mistakes – attacked too close to where diplomats were visiting so that they could see what we were dealing with using their own eyes rather than dismissing it as a trumped-up story, killed someone who was friends with someone important enough in another country, bribed someone honest enough to spill what they’d been asked to do and not quick enough to kill them before they did. We _finally_ got the other Eastern Lands on our side, at least tentatively, and then there was that bad summer. The fires, the bad harvest, all of it. Carthak’s famines got so bad that we thought that they _had_ to give us peace talks. But instead…”

“They stabbed you in the back?” Zusha asks.

Daine snorts. “Ozorne never had any intention of giving us peace talks. He tried half a dozen ways to destroy the talks but cast the blame on us…he even kidnapped me and blamed Numair – that’s a friend of mine, my mentor – for conspiring with me to start a slave rebellion.”

“And then you fed him to the hyenas!”

Daine snorts. “I mean – yes. To make a long story short, yes, I did. I cut a deal with the palace rats and rat-catchers to destroy everything worth anything, and I even – you’ll like this – I even managed to use the rats as an intermediary to the crawling insects, who hid in the bones of dinosaurs and pretended to bring them to life. The Graveyard Hag’s idea. Well, the bones, anyway – she wanted to use human bones.”

“Why didn’t she give you the power to summon bone-dancers directly?”

“She tried,” Daine says with a shrug. “But I’m a godborn, not a human, and by that point I’d learned enough about gods from my Da that I’d no patience with being pushed around. Besides, her bone-dancers don’t have no choice about who they’re fighting, and it’s not right of me to pull them from their rest to ask it. Fakery worked just as well.” She grins. “Though, as it happens, a year later, when we realized nothing was getting better and went back to help all the slaves in the capital run away, she ended up getting so frustrated that she gave the _real_ bone-dancing power to my friend Numair for one night, instead, and was fair pleased with what he did with it before we were all done.”

Rikash grins at that, but Daine’s smile fades. 

“It’s been ten years since then,” she says, and rubs at her eyes. “Ten long years. We’d thought that doing what we did to Ozorne might change things – end the war for good – but the prince we put on the Carthaki throne nearly got killed in a coup within six months, and the new one in charge is just smart enough to pay the Graveyard Hag her due so that she won’t take arms against him the way she did Ozorne. Doesn’t change anything for us.”

She sighs. “And then there was one Midwinter that we thought that the barrier would come down for good, all of it, all at once, and that maybe that’d change things, force humans to work together against the immortal threat – but no, someone figured out a way to patch it, so it’s still there, though it’s getting ever weaker. Now we have more immortals than ever, not just Carthak-allied ones, and with the military in charge of the south, the Carthaki attacks just keep coming, and now they’ve gotten Scanra involved, gathering ‘em all under one flag as best they can – and there was that coup in the Yamani islands, or at least some of them –”

“You need a good war,” Zusha says agreeably. 

Daine snorts. “I know this might not make sense to a Stormwing, but we’ve had our fill of war.”

“That’s because you haven’t actually had a war,” Rikash says. “It’s the drip-drip-drip of the endless unfulfilled promise of violence that's driving you mad, because there’s been no reason for it to stop. You need a _good_ war – or, I suppose from your perspective, a really bad one. One that leaves thousands dead, bodies stacked upon each other to rot because there’s no one left to clean it up, the water poisoned for miles around even as the wild animals come to feed and the Stormwings to play. A battle so foul that the tellers of tales will get sick of the taste of it on their tongues, and the listeners all hold their loved ones close at night for fear that the tale come to their land.”

“That’s what you need,” Zusha agrees. “Something to make it _real_. When humans can wage war without seeing the blood or counting the butcher’s bill as anything other than numbers on a page, there will never peace. Why should they be bothered, the war-wagers, when for them the price is measured only in the cost of calling up new soldiers?”

“I’d love to get my claws into some of them,” Rikash says wistfully. “We may be war-birds and battle-buzzards, but there’s no greater treat for a Stormwing than the blood of the man or woman who signs their name on starting a war.”

“Even if it’s a war in self-defense?” Daine asks. Her face is open, without judgment. The disgust from their earlier encounter has given way to pure curiosity.

“Even so,” Rikash confirms. “War is war, and our job is to make humans think twice about that. War doesn’t discriminate – every war ever fought can be called self-defense, if you look at it in a certain light – and neither do we.”

“Are you lot still jawing like jaybirds?” Serje shouts from high up above. “This is my third pass! Go to sleep already!”

Rikash sighs. “One day,” he says. “One day, I’ll teach him manners. One day.”

Daine snorts and kicks dirt into the fire to put it out. She really is remarkably Stormwing-like. 

“Charming,” she says, but she doesn’t sound all that sarcastic. “Sleep well. We’ll head out at first light.”

Which, apparently, very much means _first_ light.

Rikash is an early riser by nature, but he’s used to sleeping higher up, where the sunlight falls on his face, and not on the ground in the shade, so he’s still fast asleep when Skysong decides to take it upon herself to wake him up.

Being climbed upon by a dragon kitling is _not_ Rikash’s preferred way to wake up.

“Your charge is a pain in the tailfeathers,” Rikash informs Daine, who’s already awake and packing up her belongings.

“She is a bit, at that,” Daine agrees peaceably, ignoring Skysong’s trill of offended dignity. “I’m surprised you didn’t cut her with all that thrashing you did – she’d have made a noise if you had, even a bit, and you didn’t.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Rikash says, rolling his eyes and shaking out his wings. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve woken up like that; you learn not to get your feathers in the way.”

“What, you get climbed on by baby dragons often?” Daine asks, clearly teasing. 

“Yes,” Dubukk says before Rikash can respond. “Rikash gets a lot of chick-watching jobs from dragons.”

“What, really?”

“Stormwings are rather notorious throughout the Divine Realms for having a tendency to be overly fond of the young of other species, something the parents of said other species have an occasional habit of exploiting,” Rikash says, flushing. “And our eyries _do_ border the Dragonlands.”

“Interesting,” Daine says, shouldering her pack. “We should head out.”

“Speaking of which,” Zusha – who is _not_ an early riser – growls. “Where are you even going? _We’re_ going to the eyries, of course, which is probably where you’ll find Jachull, but if you want to knock off a few other bastards while you’re at it, you should probably let us know so that we can hit them on the way there. If any of them even _are_ on the way there.”

“Get them downwind of Zusha before noon,” Serje offers with a smirk. “That’ll take care of them for you.”

“Serje. I will rip your face off and feed it to the squirrel gods.”

“No, you won’t,” Dubukk says. “You say you will every morning, but you never do.”

“I’m too damn tired; that’s the only reason I haven’t done it yet.”

“Also, as far as I remember,” Rikash drawls, “squirrels don’t eat faces.”

Daine snorts. “I don’t know,” she says with a grin. “There was this one squirrel named Flicker – I was just learning to ride along with animals then, hadn’t yet figured out shape-changing – and we definitely went for the face a few times…”

_Can I ride on you?_ Skysong asks Rikash.

“For a bit,” he agrees, already aware that he’s probably going to carry her all day despite his best intentions. He likes children. “I don’t want to get tired out.”

_Can we go high again?_

“Not while we’re flying cross-country we can't.”

_That’s not a no!_

“Stop encouraging her,” Daine tells Rikash. “You give her an inch, she’ll take a mile.”

“In other words, she’s a dragon,” Rikash replies, shrugging. “It’s fine. I’m young enough yet to remember how irritating it is to be a flying creature with your wings not yet fully grown.”

“Yeah, and with our luck, you’ll get your First Molt in the middle of this trip,” Serje grumbles. 

Rikash winces. That would be – bad. 

This may be the first time he’s ever hoped that his First Molt didn’t come sooner rather than later. 

“Anyway, Zusha’s right,” he says hastily, before Daine can ask any questions about it. “Who’s working with Uusoae?”

“Queen Jachull of the Stormwings –” 

“Of the Mortal Fear nation,” Rikash corrects her. “She doesn’t represent Stormwings generally.”

“I’m starting to figure that out, yes. Yukinus of the Stratus clan –”

“Hurroks,” Serje says. “Great. I love savage winged horses.”

“Then you’ll love the next one,” Daine says dryly. “I don’t have a name, but it’s the Spidren Matriarch of the Sokormuims nesting grounds.”

“Thanks. I hate it.”

Daine giggles. “The others I don’t know what they are, just their names: Gaoha, Soareth, and Llyneth.”

“Never heard of them,” Rikash says.

“That’s because you’re a homebody,” Zusha says. 

Rikash glares at her.

“…not that I know them, either,” she concedes. “We’ll have to ask someone who knows more people than we do – one of the gods, maybe. They’re terrible gossips, every one of them.”

“The first one might be an ogre,” Dubukk says. “It sounds like Ogrish, I think?”

“Linguist,” Serje says mockingly, but his tone is notably less harsh than it would be for anyone but Dubukk. “Of course you’d know that.”

“Who’s the last one?” Rikash asks. 

Daine frowns at him. “The last one?”

“You only listed six,” Rikash says. “There should be seven.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Uusoae’s tricks don’t change,” Zusha says. “Ironic enough, what with her being the embodiment of Chaos. It’s based on a chessboard: she’s the King, always, because she can’t move on her own and relies on others. The pawns aren’t important enough to matter. And that leaves seven spots on the board.”

“The Great Gods never mentioned that,” Daine says. 

“They wouldn’t know,” Serje says disdainfully. “The Great Gods are the gods of men, and just like men they’re bad at war – too quick to jump in, too quick to forget the costs. They don’t keep records of every tussle they’ve had with Uusoae; why would they? They don’t really care about anything but making sure she’s defeated. But the Stormwings remember. We’re born to remember war, and we remember each and every one of ‘em.”

“I’ve seen the chessboard in my dreams,” Daine says. “Is there any meaning to which ones are the knights and bishops and rooks, or which one’s the Queen?” 

“Not that I recall,” Rikash says. “Queen Barzha might know more, though, or her mate, Hebakh – he’s the memory-keeper for our nation. You can ask them once we get to the Abattoir.”

“The – what?”

“The Abattoir,” he says. “It’s what they call the homeland of the Stormwings, near the Sea of Sand.”

“What a picturesque name,” Daine says, looking mildly disturbed. 

“The seventh name?”

She sighs. “A dragon. Mirrorglass.”

“A _dragon_?” Serje squawks.

“I’ll handle that one on my own,” Daine says quickly. “You say your lands are near the Dragonlands; I can hit that one after I leave you at your home in the Abattoir, and maybe we can stop some of Uusoae’s people while we’re heading in that direction…how long will it take to get there?”

“About a week, depending on how many stops we make. The hurrok pastures aren’t far from here, though; we could go there first,” he offers.

“I can’t believe we’re going to detour for this,” Serje complains. “Wasn’t the whole point to find a _better_ way to get back home?”

“Queen Barzha wouldn’t support someone supporting Uusoae,” Rikash says firmly. “Decision’s made, Serje. Shut up about it.”

“At least we get to cause some trouble,” Zusha says gleefully. “We haven’t had any fun ever since this most recent battle against Uusoae started – awful, bloodless battle that’s nothing but pretty lights in the sky. You don’t know how terrible it’s been, watching it; it’s like watching two sides solve math problems at each other instead of fighting.”

Daine swallows a laugh. “Hurroks sound like a fine start,” she says politely. “Where to?”

"The Endless Pasture," Serje grumbles. "It's just a big old field, really, but it's shared by most of the equine species - horses, centaurs, hurroks, the lot of them. Not unicorns, though; they're too prissy-footed."

"Prissy-footed?"

"They're a closer relation to goats," Rikash translates. "So they live higher up one of the mountains."

"Look on the bright side, Serje; at least the Pasture's on our way," Zusha tells him. "We'd've had to pass it anyway."

Serje grunts, not appeased.

Dubukk looks mildly distressed by Serje's mood, and Zusha shoots Rikash a glare that clearly suggests it's up to him to make sure they aren't dealing with a grit-stoned sourclaws the whole way there.

"Serje, Dubukk, when we get there, I want you flying the thermals," Rikash orders. "Obviously the terrain will have to be evaluated on our arrival, but as a preliminary plan of attack, Daine will challenge Yukinus with myself and Zusha as her seconds. Then when battle's joined, you can hit him from above - Dubukk for casting and Serje to take point."

Serje looks surprised. "You'd let me take the kill?"

"If you can manage it," Rikash says pointedly, but Serje's looking better pleased already.

"We get keepsakes, right?" he asks. "A hurrock clan-leader - that'll be worth something at the full moon flights."

_What's at the full moon?_ Skysong asks. 

"Breeding contests and dueling fights," Rikash murmurs to her. "Nothing you'd care about, at your age."

_I can fight._

"Unless you're looking to be inducted into a Stormwing clan, you can't, not at our full moon flights."

_Oh. Hmm._

Rikash is a little suspicious of that thoughtful noise, but he doesn't have time to think about it long because the sky above them explodes into the light of divine battle.

And, well, Rikash _does_ like impressing children. 

"Guide Daine, will you?" he asks Zusha, who nods. "Skysong and I are going to look at the war."

_We are? Great!_

"It isn't dangerous, is it?" Daine asks, frowning. "The chaos vents -"

_It's not dangerous! I can handle it!_

"Kitten -"

"Nothing like chaos vents," Zusha assures her. "This is pure spectator sport."

Rikash takes the next thermal up.

_What will we see?_ Skysong asks. 

"Nothing all that fun," Rikash says cheerfully. "War for babies, really - lots of metaphor and dream-language instead of real blood and gore. But it's just right for your age. Hold on -"

He flies into the next burst of light.

For a second, it feels like warm raindrops pattering against his skin, the way a child imagines it would feel if they flew threw a firework's scattered sparks -

And then they're through, flying high against a massive gameboard, stretching as far as the eye can see.

The Great Gods and Uusoae - the oldest game there is.

_Are they playing chess?_ Skysong asks.

"They think they are," Rikash says, and turns on a wing. "But look at it with a Stormwing's eyes, and you'll see they're barely playing checkers. Some pieces get kinged, others hop around, and the pieces look all the same - hah! The Great Gods have no conception of _real_ war. You can't blame them, though, it's not in their nature..."

He trails off, frowning. There's a handful of pieces oddly positioned.

A white piece, traveling with neutrals - Daine, he assumes. But why is there a black piece only two steps behind her?

"Let's go take a look at that, shall we?" he asks Skysong, turning again to soar over to that part of the board. 

_What is it?_

"Well, if we assume the Great Gods play white, as they usually do, then the black piece is a servant of chaos. The question, of course, is which one -"

Rikash's eyes narrow. 

_I only see a game piece_ , Skysong confesses. _What do you see?_

"Trouble," Rikash says. "It's a hunting party, and it’s after Daine."

_...oh._

That was not the sound of surprise.

"Skysong," Rikash says calmly. "You're young yet, but not that young. Don't you know it's bad to lie to would-be allies?"

_We didn't lie! We - er - omitted._

Rikash rolls his eyes and then tips himself into a roll that mimics his eyes, shaking the two of them free of the war-vision and, once out, gliding down towards where Daine is marching.

_Daine_ , Skysong calls, sounding guilty. _I'm sorry - he saw them behind us, hunting us down –_

Daine looks up sharply, her shoulders going up by her ears in tension, hand immediately reaching for her bow.

"A hunting party!" Zusha laughs. She’d noticed Daine’s evasiveness, too. "Oh, smart girl! And here I thought you were just being human-strange when you were so easily convinced to join forces with us."

Dubukk and Serje laugh as well, flying barrel-rolls of amusement. 

"It's fine," Rikash tells Daine, equally amused. "You could have just told us, you know; we knew you were keeping _something_ from us."

It _was_ pretty obvious.

Daine arches her eyebrows. "It's…fine?"

"We don't take offense at being used in that way," Rikash says. "Everyone knows that a Stormwing's battle-aura is the only thing that can confuse a Coldfang's nose."

Daine's shoulders slowly start to relax. "I heard it was just your stink that confused 'em."

"People keep bringing up our smell as if they think it's a good insult," Rikash remarks to Skysong. “It’s like it never occurs to them that if we minded, we’d do something about it.”

Skysong sniggers.

Daine grins. “So it’s not a problem, then, that I’m being hunted, and by a Coldfang, no less? I got run out of the last three places I rested because of ‘em, and I’d rather not have it continue.”

“We don’t care,” Serje says. “We do, however, care about you walking any slower. Can’t you turn into something more efficient, like a horse or something?”

Daine blinks. “You know,” she says slowly, “I don’t think anyone’s ever suggested that before. I’ve always gone human whenever I’m traveling in company. Hold up one minute –”

Between Rikash’s claws and Skysong’s more nimble ones, they’re able to get Daine’s pack loaded onto her now equine back and their pace increases dramatically.

“That’ll confuse the Coldfang,” Zusha cackles. “Wretched creatures.”

_Do Stormwings dislike them for some reason?_ Daine asks with a snort and a flick of her tail. 

“We’re opposites,” Dubukk says. “Stormwings are steel born in the heart of a volcano; Coldfangs are rocks dug out of a frozen glacier.”

“In short, we don’t get on,” Serje says.

_Tell me more about how immortals are born_ , Skysong demands. 

The next few hours are spent entertaining Skysong with stories of how unicorns (regular or killer variants) are blown into existence by the frolicking wind and undines are rocked to sleep as babes in the curl of waves, pretending all the while that Daine’s ears aren’t pricked forward in interest. 

Before any of them know it, they’re at the rise that leads into the valley of the Endless Pasture.

“Oh, hold up a moment,” Rikash says, belatedly realizing something. “Daine, do you ever get swept away by animal impulses? Because the Pastures –”

_Are where the horses of the Divine Realms dwell_ , he’s about to say, but he never gets a chance because Daine has broken into a run, going straight over the rise and down the soft grassy slope on the other side, snout pointed straight at the herds of wild horses milling invitingly at the base of the hill.

“Oops,” Zusha says. 

_Daine!_ Skysong yelps, alarmed. _Come back!_

“Don’t just say ‘oops’!” Rikash says. “Go and get her.”

“What? No! Serje, going horse was _your_ idea – you go!”

Serje groans, but – and this is a relief – he goes, using magic to push himself forward faster than Daine’s horse-legs can take her even at a sprint.

Then he dives, grabbing hold of Daine’s pack with his claws and lifting her, pack and horse both, off the ground with an effort. 

Dubukk veers over to help, lashing Daine’s struggling legs with his magic so that Serje can bring her back.

“What’s the best way to bring her back to herself?” Rikash asks Skysong. “Some melody or chant or…?”

_I usually just bite her._

“Effective. Go on, jump over now.”

One nip from a set of draconic jaws later, and suddenly Serje is holding an empty pack and Daine is sitting, human-shaped, on the grass below him, rubbing her backside – on which she landed – with a scowl. 

“Thanks,” she says, looking fierce as though it would cover up the stench of fear suddenly rising up from her. “That was – unexpected.”

“The Endless Pastures are the birthplace of all horses,” Zusha says. “It’s the home all horses remember in their dreams, and the place that they return to when they go to the Black God – well, the model for that place, anyway, they don’t actually come _here_. It’s more metaphorical than that, like everything else in the Divine Realms.”

“It didn’t occur to us that it might affect you more than you’d be accustomed to,” Rikash says. “Sorry.”

“Well, I got an apology from a Stormwing out of it,” Daine says, good mood slowly returning. “So it’s not all bad.”

“Actually, it is,” Dubukk says.

Everyone looks at him in surprise, since Dubukk was not usually given to such gloomy pronouncements.

“Well, not all bad,” he amends. “But it is trouble. I don’t think the Horse-Lords have realized that the ‘horse’ we just poached from their fields wasn’t really a horse.”

He nods at the distance, where a dust-storm has suddenly picked up.

A dust-storm that is growing larger, almost as if it were being caused by a powerful creature suddenly deciding to run straight towards them.

“Retreat?” Serje suggests nervously.

“Surely they’ll understand when we explain?” Daine asks.

“Definitely retreat,” Rikash says. “Remember what I said about not starting something? We just started something.”

“But –”

“No ‘but’s. Serje’s got your pack. Take wing and _fly_!”

Daine's golden eagle form is as fast as the stories suggested. 

_Why can't we talk with them?_ she demands even as she soars rapidly across the Pasture, Dubukk magicking up some fire to keep the wind blowing the way they need it to. _I know the K'mir; their gods aren't known to be unreasonable -_

"I wouldn't be worried if it was Shai South-Wind; he's a good soul, disposed to be friendly to Stormwings," Rikash tells her. "Or Chavi West-Wind, who's generally fond of everyone and everything. But that dust-storm rose up from the east."

_So, what? Vau East-Wind is a god of creation - travel - truth - strength -_

"Yeah," Serje says. "In other words, he's the divine K'mir equivalent of a battering ram."

"Mixed with an inquisitor," Zusha says. "I don't care to be put under a truth-spell no matter how good my story is!"

"His reputation for dealing with would-be poachers is very much an 'attack first, apologize later' one," Rikash explains. "Would _you_ want to try to explain to a god of overwhelming power - as dreamt by the people who train the fiercest of all stallions - that no, really, it wasn't _really_ poaching, it just _looked_ like poaching -"

_My best human friend in Tortall's K'mir, and a horsemistress_ , Daine says. _Assuming Vau's response to poachers is anything like hers...I retract my protest. Actually, can we fly any faster?_

Rikash feeds his magic into Dubukk's for an extra boost. 

"It's not enough!" Zusha cries, starting to cough as the dust of the stormfront starts to swamp them. "We can't outrun a Horse-Lord!"

"We don't need to!" Rikash shouts. Skysong clings to his neck; she hasn't complained, but he can feel the tremors in her still-small body. "If we get through that gap there, up ahead between those rocks, we'll be in the dueling-grounds of the hurroks' pasture. There's only one way in, so he'll perch at the entrance to keep us trapped while he investigates what happened - K'mir justice demands that he cease pursuit once we’re effectively captive."

_Go go go!_ Daine shouts, shifting into a peregrine falcon and pitching into a steep dive at dizzying speeds.

Rikash folds up his wings and follows her. "Come on!"

He sacrifices accuracy for speed, blasting through the crevice and hitting ground instead of catching himself up in a soar; the impact sends him head over tail-feathers, though he does keep enough presence of mind to take the impact on the opposite shoulder from Skysong. 

Serje follows his example, but Zusha manages to catch air and Dubukk hangs on to her air-trail just enough to come to a more dignified landing. 

"The dust storm stopped," Daine says. She's human again, watching the storm press against the crevice but not go through. "Vau East-Wind went off to investigate. K'mir justice. How long will it take him to figure out that no horses were poached?"

"A few hours, probably; counting horses takes time, even for a Horse-Lord. Why?"

"Because if we can't leave, neither can the hurroks," Daine says. Her face is set in hard lines. "Might be an opportunity available."

"I see one," Zusha says, gliding in to land next to Daine. "The hurroks are all gathering by the dueling-grounds; they haven't even noticed us yet."

"No doubt due to us being so subtle and sneaky," Serje grumbles. "Have they all been blinded and deafened or something?"

"Might as well have been," Zusha says, looking smug. "Hormones. It's their dueling-season."

"In the middle of the _day_?"

"Don't sound so shocked, Rikash; not everyone's a Stormwing. Don't you see? It's an opportunity!"

"How so, Zusha?" Daine asks, pulling on clothing. She does that every time they pause; Rikash isn't sure why she bothers. Human skin must be _really_ sensitive. 

"They're fighting for domination of the herd," Zusha explains. "If the hurroks duel anything like Stormwings do, all the positions will be up for grabs. If we tilt the balance of Yukinos' fight, we won't even have to kill him - another of the hurroks will do the job for us."

"I thought that the point was that we'd do the job," Serje says, clearly disappointed.

"You can take first claw at the spidren queen," Rikash tells him. "If there's an easier way to do this, I'm all for it. Go scout and see if it's possible."

Serje grumbles, but leaps into the air, followed a moment later by Dubukk.

"You know, Rikash, you're probably the most practical Stormwing I've ever met," Daine remarks, watching. "I like it."

Rikash finds himself flushing, though he's not sure why. "Yes, well," he says. "I have to keep those idiots safe, no matter what Serje has to say about it."

Daine smiles conspiratorially at him. 

Zusha coughs. Loudly.

Rikash glares at her.

"Sorry," she says insincerely. "Something got caught in my throat."

Rikash doesn't believe her for a minute, but he also doesn't know why he's annoyed, either, so he dismisses the whole thing.

"Thoughts on how to best interfere?" he asks instead. "We can use our fear aura on them, get them to frenzy, but that's no guarantee that Yukinos will lose."

_Daine can shoot him_ , Skysong suggests.

"No, that won't work," Zusha says. "If it was something that obvious, the hurroks would all turn on the interloper - and the hurroks may be stuck here, but so are we, and I don't want to be stuck with a mob of angry hurroks."

Daine nods. "Something more subtle, then, like the Stormwing fear aura...do you have anything else like that?"

"We're not, by nature, a subtle species," Rikash says. "So - no."

"What about you, godborn?" Zusha asks. "Don't you have some useful magic trick?"

Daine grimaces. "Not really. My wild magic can't connect with any creature in the Divine Realms, since they're gods, not animals; I've got my aim and I've got my shifting and that's about it."

"Well, that's useless."

"Not entirely," Rikash objects, feeling oddly inclined to defend Daine. "She could always, I don't know, turn into a snake that we drop on his head mid-battle or something."

Daine barks a laugh. "Well, we're definitely not doing _that_!"

They end up doing - well, a slightly modified version of that.

To be fair, they can't think of anything better in the thirty minutes they have before Yukinos' challenge-duel begins.

A mischievous local meadowsnake named Fils-court - not one of the Firsts of his kind, but one of their immediate children - listens to their story and agrees to take the blame for it should the hurroks investigate, in exchange for getting a good perch to watch (hear?) the fun.

And, well, then Dubukk and Zusha spend the ten minutes before the duel spreading fear and panic, then Serje does the fly-and-drop routine with Daine the snake -

She lands, hissing, right on Yukinos' neck.

He rears back, screaming rage and surprise, waving his hooves in Serje's general direction as Serje darts away at top speed.

Daine uses the opportunity to coil herself around Yukinos’ neck.

Though now that Rikash thinks about it, that might be less strategy, more panic. She's a very average sized snake on a not particularly average sized hurrok. But on the other hand, she’s also the Stormwing Killer, and pretty hard to knock off balance – they’ve seen that already. 

Yukinos, too enraged to think properly, twists his head to grab Daine and throw her away into the long grass.

His opponent, a hurrok named Nimthos, uses the opportunity to go for the throat.

_I can't believe that worked_ , Skysong says from the tree where she, Rikash, and Fils-court are perched, watching the ensuing celebrations as the new hurrok herd-leader is inaugurated over the corpse of the previous one.

There's a lot of snacking on said corpse involved in said celebrations, but, well, what can you really expect?

"A splendid bit of mischief," Fils-court says gleefully. "And, best of all, Nimthos is far more reasonable than Yukinos, and he remembers his debts. My parents' children in the Mortal Realms will not fear the Cirrus Clan for as long as he reigns."

"Long may his reins be," Zusha, coming in to land, snarks. "Horses!"

Rikash laughs. It takes Skysong another second to catch the pun, then she laughs, too.

A snake slithers out of the grasses near the base of their tree.

_Glad to see you all thought that was funny_ , Daine remarks, then shifts to back to human form to look up at them, hands on her hips. "Still, questionable comedic value aside - being thrown by hurrok jaws is _not_ a picnic, let me tell you that - I've got to admit that that was...easier than I expected, I suppose?"

Rikash hops down to a lower branch and nudges her with his wing. "Don't question luck. It only angers her, and makes her less inclined to bless you again."

Daine grins at him. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you. All of you," she amends as Serje and Dubukk, who had been waiting aloft for him to return, glide down. "One down. The Great Gods will be pleased."

"The rest of us are not displeased, either," a booming voice says from right behind their tree, causing all of the Stormwings to startle and take to the air.

A dark-skinned man with a bright smile and even brighter eyes is standing there, wearing traditional K'mir clothing. His hair shifts in place continuously, as though ruffled by a wind that none of them can feel.

Vau East-Wind, Horse-Lord of the K'mir.

"You find yourself in strange company, Weiyrnsra," he adds, arching his eyebrows at the Stormwings. "Ones that should perhaps be a little more cautious when traveling through our lands."

"We weren't poaching," Serje protests. "We were doing her -" he nods at Daine. "- a favor!"

Vau snorts, an unsurprisingly horse-like sound. "A favor to a forest-born godling would not count for much here in my prairie, war-bird, if Weiyrnsra had not been the subject of many concerned prayers from several of my children."

_Does he mean Onua, Thayet and Buri, or does he mean Cloud?_ Skysong asks, her voice dragon-insolent. 

If she wasn't on his back, Rikash would cuff her with his wing.

Maybe.

Vau ignores her, focusing on Daine. "You may continue on your mission to fight Chaos, little godling," he says. "But in the future, I would recommend a little more caution. Not all gods are as generous with their territory as we."

"Well, that's horseshit," Rikash thinks, and only realizes that someone has said it aloud a moment later when the other Stormwings look at him in horror.

He's horrified, too, until he realizes it wasn't him that said it - it was Fils-court.

The small snake waves its snout in Vau East-wind's direction. "The Endless Pasture might be K'mir pasturing grounds," he says sternly, "but you do not have dominion over it all. My family could have invited them, too, or the horse-gods, or the gods of the long grass. Yet you just kicked up a dust storm first thing without even asking! Who are you to lecture about caution?"

Vau's grin widens. "Well said, little snake. You did not see what I saw, which was cause for temper, but what you say is wise still, and a lesson I ought to remember." He holds out his hand. "Come with me, and we will spread the story of your victory today."

"Omit us," Rikash says. "Please."

"Naturally."

"All's well that ends well, I guess," Daine says.

Vau nods, and starts to turn to leave.

"Hold on," Dubukk says. "Don't go yet."

Everyone glares at him.

Dubukk ignores them all. "We have a few names we need to identify," he says. "Do you happen to know who Gaoha, Llyneth, and Soareth are? Or what species they are, for that matter?"

"The first one is an ogre," Vau says, making Dubukk fluff his wings with pleasure. "And the second - that has the sound of Merrish."

" _Merfolk_?" Daine exclaims, clearly surprised.

"Or undines, or kappas, or sea-serpents - most of the immortals of the sea use Merrish as their common tongue," Vau tells her. "As for Soareth - that one's tricky. It's fairly common name among highlanders."

"Highlanders?"

"Ignoring that compared to this prairie, everything is a highland, he means people who live in the mountains," Zusha says, rolling her eyes. "Killer unicorns, some breeds of centaurs, chimeras, griffins, winged apes -"

"It won't be a winged ape," Dubukk objects. "They're highlanders, yes, but they all use place-names as their personal names for some reason."

_Really?_

"Oh, yes - I've met three named Carthak this year _alone_ -"

"Are you sure it wasn't the same one?" Rikash can't help but ask.

"Different genders."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess that'd do it. How do they differentiate?"

"With letters - one was Carthak R, the next Carthak J, the third Carthak GG -"

" _Two_ Gs?" Serje asks. "That has frightening implications - exactly how many winged apes are there..?"

"I'm sure we don't want to know," Vau says dryly. "But in any event, I will leave you to your quest."

Before any of them say anything, he turns into a whirlwind and is already at the end of the horizon, so that's fairly definitive.

"Rude," Zusha sniffs. "And people are always ragging on _Stormwing_ manners."

"Stormwings _have_ manners?" Daine asks, but her tone suggests humor.

"No," Dubukk says. "Not really."

"Dubukk, stop ruining my fun," Zusha scolds. "I could have convinced her that we greet each other by sniffing tails, the way dogs do."

Skysong sniggers. _And then when we got to the Abattoir -_

"Exactly!"

"Kitten, whose side are you on?" Daine teases. She's gotten dressed again - seriously, what is _with_ humans and clothing? "Mine or theirs?"

_I'm on the side of whatever's funniest, of course!_

"Typical dragon," Rikash says fondly.

_And proud!_

Rikash is soft on dragon kits in general, but he must confess that even accounting for that, he rather likes Skysong.

"Anyway, what's next?" he asks. "The dragon will have to wait until we're nearer to home, and Jachull, too. The ogres aren't _anywhere_ near the right way, though, and I'm not sure I even know where we'd find someone who knows undersea politics enough to locate Gaoha..."

"The mountains are on the way, if we go that path," Zusha says, but she sounds dubious.

"They're also _really_ high if you don't stick to the paths," Serje points out. "Getting up to the Highlands isn't exactly easy."

"It's easier if we take a shortcut," Dubukk says.

"The Ley is closed; that's how we ended up in this situation in the first place," Serje argues. "What shortcut?"

Dubukk shrugs. "I mean, I've just heard of it. But the spidren caverns aren’t far from here, and they supposedly neighbor the striga ones, even though the spidrens are lowlander and the striga are highlanders. Logic suggests that there's a way to go from one to the other."

Rikash and the others stare mutely at him.

_Okay, question_ , Skysong finally says. _Striga are blood-drinking giant bats with human faces, right?_

"Yes."

_So he's suggesting we go into a cave of giant spiders to get to a cave of giant bats - blood-drinking bats - as a_ shortcut?

"Yes. It'd be shorter," Dubukk says, sounding puzzled as to why they're all objecting. "And anyway, we need to hit the spidren caverns too, right?"

"I feel like I was hoping to encounter them while they were out and about and didn't even realize it," Zusha remarks.

"I didn't realize they lived in caverns," Daine says, sounding disturbed. "In the Mortal Realms, they hang around in forests - cliffsides - open spaces."

"The Mortal Realms don't have caverns large enough for them," Rikash says. He can't blame her. Spidrens are far from his favorite fellow immortals. "The Divine Realms do. They're, uh, pretty territorial."

_Great. Territorial evil spiders._

"Yes, they are, which is why their caverns are basically impassable," Serje hisses. "We can't go there! We can't even get _in_ there! The obvious entrances are all trapped!"

"You should be more supportive," Dubukk tells him. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't have an idea."

"I think I'll take any ideas at this point," Daine says, a little faintly. She's clearly imagining giant caverns filled with spidrens, which is a bad idea. 

"It's not as bad as you're imagining," Rikash tells her. "They're territorial, remember? They each insist on having a yard."

"A _yard_?"

"It's what they call the areas around their nests," Rikash says. "It’s very decorative and all that or something…Don't look at me like that! It’s true. Their territories are spaced out, not a bunch of spidrens all squished together crawling all over the walls like they're maggots on a rotting corpse."

"Thanks, I think. Spaced out is better than what I was thinking." She smiles. "Not that the maggot-corpse metaphor is notably better."

_How_ did _you know that's what she was thinking?_ Skysong asks. She hadn't had the same disquieted expression, but then, she's a dragon. They think _everything_ is interesting.

(Or "fascinating!", they say that a lot, too. Rikash once spent a season with dragons and by the end of it he'd sworn off the phrase entirely.)

"That's what everyone thinks the first time," Zusha says briskly. "Spidrens are creepy and universally mean; no one likes them. No one."

"They think everyone does, though," Serje says. "Or, well, they think people don't like them because they're jealous, which is definitely not true."

Daine sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "Well, nothing for it; we need to go there - I need to go there, at least. Are you sure you want to keep this up?"

"We've already committed," Rikash says. "Don't worry about us; we keep our word."

She smiles at him. "I'm saying I'd release you from it, if you wanted."

He waves a wing at her.

_Stop questioning our good luck_ , Skysong tells her crossly. _Or trying to send them away - I like them!_

"We like you, too," Rikash tells her, which makes her scales go pink with pleasure.

"Well, in that case, we may as well take that route, as unpleasant as it sounds," Daine says, getting back on track with the ease of an old soldier. "Dubukk, you said you had a suggestion for getting in?"

"Yes," Dubukk says, looking pleased. "I know someone who's good at getting in and out of places."


	3. 3

Dubukk's someone, it turns out, isn't just any someone.

"Wow," Zusha says, deadpan. "And here I thought you being friends with the biggest pain in the tailfeathers in the Divine Realms referred to Serje.”

"I like who I like," Dubukk says peaceably. 

"And apparently what you like are pains in the tailfeathers," Rikash says, rolling his eyes. 

"That's a rude thing to say about someone we're asking for help from," Daine says, glancing between him and Zusha with arched eyebrows.

"No, just accurate," Dubukk's friend says cheerfully.

He hops forward, nose twitching. 

The rabbit god is, like most gods, an unusually large member of his species, though he isn't quite as disproportionate as some animal gods can be. His fluffy tail and legs glimmer faintly with starlight, and his ears have been replaced by crinkled leaves in so many myths that they vaguely resemble them now even though he's currently in perfect health. His fur is dappled, his claws and teeth glint silver, and his eyes shine with humor and mischief. 

His name is El-Ahrairah, and for a rabbit, he's a real jackass.

_Accurate?_ Skysong asks. _You admit to being the biggest pain in the tail in the Divine Realms?_

"Admit? I'm proud of it! Even the coyote, raven, and fox gods concede that I'm a finer trickster than they -"

"Ananze doesn't."

"He's a spider, not a mammal, so it doesn't count; and anyway we're tied," El-Ahrairah says dismissively. "And that just means it's time to get ahead, I say! Stormwings are always good for trouble, godborns are even better, and an assassination tied to one of Uusoae's plots - oh, this _will_ be fun. How can I help?"

"Mostly just directions, really," Rikash says, because he can see where this is going.

"Don't be ridiculous," El-Ahrairah says cheerfully. "Me and Rabscuttle can lead you right to the spidren you want, that's for sure, but if you think we'll scamper away from a good fight, you've got another thing coming."

"I like you," Daine says, sounding surprised.

"Of course you do! I'm extremely charming."

Skysong giggles. 

Rikash rolls his eyes. 

"Sorry, yes, of course," Daine says quickly, somewhat abashed. "It's only - er – you’re rather different from most of the rabbits I've met -" She winces. "- and, uh, hunted - is that a problem?"

El-Ahrairah shrugs. "They got caught," he says with the casual ruthlessness of rabbits. "If they're brave, and smart, and lucky, their children won't."

_That's certainly an interesting philosophy_ , Skysong remarks, sounding fascinated. Dragons, Rikash swears... _Do your mortal children know of it?_

"Naturally! They don't call me the Prince with a Thousand Enemies for nothing, little dragon, but I make up for it my teaching my children a thousand tricks to escape. We will die a thousand ways, but have a thousand children, and our children survive."

Daine looks doubtful, but shrugs. "As long as you don't mind, I guess. Which way?"

"Oh, give it another minute or two," El-Ahrairah says. "I can't be going anywhere without Rabscuttle by my side, can I?"

"Certainly not," a second rabbit, even bigger than El-Ahrairah, says, hopping into the field. "You might be chief rabbit, El-Ahrairah, but you're still a rabbit - you won't get far without your Owsla!"

"Rabscuttle," El-Ahrairah tells them with a grin. "Can't live with him, wouldn't be alive without him...is something the matter, my dear _ela_?"

Rikash twists to look at Daine - Stormwings, feeding as they do on human fear, are not counted among the _elil_ , the thousand enemies of the rabbits, and dragons only sometimes since they usually conjure up their own food once they're old enough, but humans most certainly are - and notices that she's looking quite surprised.

"No, not at all," she says quickly.

"Then why do you look like a goldfish snatched out of water?" Serje asks, never one to be shy with a criticism, even though Rikash hardly thinks she looks like that. Besides, she's new to the Divine Realms - take any of them to the Mortal Realms, and they'd do the same. 

"Oh, no, it's just - d'you mind if I ask a rude question?"

"I enjoy those more than any other," El-Ahrairah says immediately. Rabscuttle rolls his eyes and nudges his feckless leader with his shoulder.

"Well," Daine says, somewhat apologetically, "it's just, you see, I've met several animal gods - Old White and Night Black, of the wolves; Queenclaw and Bitebone of the cats; Chrrik and Preet, Broadfoot and Paddlebill -"

"If you're going to be listing everyone, we'll be here a while," Serje says. "Consider getting to the point."

"The sooner she gets to the point, the sooner we go fight spidrens," Rikash reminds her.

Serje shudders. "On second thought -"

Daine rolls her eyes at both of them. "I'm just saying, I've noticed the pattern among animal gods. The first male of a species and the first female."

"Yeah, and?" Zusha asks.

"Well, then," Daine says, as if she's explained it all.

Rikash sneaks a glance around, but everyone looks as mystified as him. "Was there a question in there?"

_How come both El-Ahrairah and Rabscuttle are both boys?_ Skysong asks, rolling her eyes. 

"Yes," Daine says. "That."

"Well, why not?" El-Ahrairah wants to know. "We're the gods of the bucks, not the does; it makes sense that we're both bucks."

"It - does?"

"Naturally! The _marlis_ have their own gods."

"Oh! I see. So what's the name of the female rabbit god?"

"El-Ahrairah, of course," Rabscuttle says.

Daine holds up her hands. "But you just said he's a buck!"

"I _am_ a buck, as chance has it," El-Ahrairah says, twitching his nose. "All rabbits worship El-Ahrairah and Rabscuttle, the heroes of legend; only the bucks think of a pair of bucks and the does think of a pair of does, and each have their own stories, but it’s always El-Ahrairah and Rabscuttle either way. You see?"

"I - see?"

Daine clearly doesn't see.

"We should press on," Rabscuttle says. "It'll get dark soon, and we prefer to be in our burrows once it's dark. Dangerous, you know, traveling in the dark."

"Very," Rikash says solemnly, hiding his amusement. "Would you like a ride? Daine can turn into a bird and Serje can carry her bags -"

"Why me? I did it last time!"

"And _Zusha_ can carry her bags," Rikash amends, since he’s not in the mood for an argument. "And we might go faster that way."

El-Ahrairah and Rabscuttle look at each other, the wordless communication between long-standing partners. Rikash has seen Queen Barzha and Hebakh do the same, though they've only been mated a decade or so. He hopes to meet someone he can do that with, one day.

"Well, you're _embleer_ but you're not _elil_ ," El-Ahrairah says after a moment. "And who am I to refuse some fun?"

"An idiot," Rabscuttle says with a grandiose sigh he obviously doesn't mean. "We follow an idiot. Our whole kind. An idiot."

"I can carry you both," Dubukk says. "Climb on."

_Rikash_ , Skysong hisses in his ear while they're occupied with that and Daine is undressing again. _What's embleer? Or elil?_

"Elil means ‘those that eat rabbits’," he whispers back. "The thousand enemies of rabbit-kind. It's a word in Lapine, the rabbit-language. That's why your Daine's an _ela_ \- that's one of the _elil_ \- because humans are rabbit-eaters, and she's admitted to being one in specific."

_And embleer?_

"A rather rude word for 'stinking'."

She huffs a laugh into his shoulder. _So he was saying that you stink but at least you don't eat rabbits?_

"Exactly. Stormwings feed on human fear, or any other negative emotions, though any mortal ones will do in a pinch - we're actually quite fond of rabbits for that reason. They're _always_ scared."

Skysong considers that for a moment. _You must have been hungry, trapped in the Divine Realms._

"It's not as good," Rikash agrees. "We can get glimpses of human wars from here, seeping through the thinner parts of the barrier. It's enough to live on and raise our young on, but it's much better in the Mortal Realms. That's why Queen Barzha's decision to refuse an alliance with the mortals capable of opening gates was seen as very conservative - and unpopular."

_People make all sorts of decisions when they’re hungry_ , Skysong says, her voice pensive. _And you've all been hungry a long time._

"We have been. But it’s all right; the barrier has to come down eventually," Rikash says with a shrug. "And then we'll find our way back to the Mortal Realms to start scaring humans off war again. It's what we were born to do. Quite literally - you know the story, yes? Of how a human traveler dreamt of a creature with claws of steel to rip through human lies about the grandness and honor of war?"

"Stories for later!" El-Ahrairah calls, now safely on Dubukk's back. "For now, we fly."

"Since when are you in charge?" Rikash shoots back immediately, puffing up his feathers. 

El-Ahrairah just laughs. "All right, Rikash-roo. You lead now, I lead later."

"I'm not _small_ ," Rikash grumbles, but takes to the air. "Let's go, everyone. Dubukk, you take point - I want to get us there as quickly as possible."

_Seconded_ , Daine says, now in her eagle form.

"Pick something else," Serje tells her crossly, before anyone else can say anything. "No predators: we're traveling with rabbits."

_Didn’t think of that._ She turns into a gull. _Better?_

"I suppose a fish-eater's better than nothing."

"There's a member of my Owsla that's worked with a gull before," El-Ahrairah remarks. "Quite well, even. Don't worry about us. Forward!"

They fly, opting for speed rather than speech. Still, despite their best efforts, they only get so far before it becomes dark and the rabbits insist on landing to rest, and Daine concedes that she's rather hungry. 

Stormwing and rabbit both dig out appropriate dens - "No one ever smells us with you around," El-Ahrairah says, pleased. "Really, I can't wait for you lot to get back to the Mortal Realms for good; I'll have to teach my people a whole new set of tricks, just for you." - while Daine slinks off in search of food to supplement what's in her pack.

She returns with mostly vegetables, suggesting either a guilty conscience around rabbits or a discomfort with hunting gods, and brings enough to share. That, at least, means that the rabbits can tell stories instead of foraging. 

While the rest of them are digging and Daine is cooking up some tubers, Skysong hops off Rikash's shoulders - his back feels bare without her, even though he does appreciate the opportunity to stretch out - and goes over to hiss something vaguely urgent-sounding in Daine's ear, her immature wings cocked up in a sign of distress. Daine hisses something back, too hushed for them to hear, and Skysong subsides, chastened but clearly still annoyed.

She turns her back on Daine and stomps back over to the Stormwings, her tail straight with pique.

_I'm sleeping here tonight_ , she trills loudly, clearly speaking as much for Daine's benefit as the Stormwings.

"Kitten -" Daine starts.

_It's fine; I've gotten used to the smell,_ she interrupts. _It's amazing, really, what you adapt to when you're among friends...dig me a place, will you?_

The Stormwings look among themselves and shrug in collective, silent agreement. Far be it from them to interfere with a family squabble.

"I'll show you how, and you can help," Zusha says, gently using a wing to usher Skysong forward. "Come on."

Rikash hops over to Daine, who looks glum. "Don't worry," he murmurs to her. "Dragons are touchy at this age; she'll be over whatever it is soon enough."

"Maybe," Daine says, making a face. "It's not just nonsense, though; she's got something of a point. It's just not something I know what to do with."

"Anything we can help with? We're -"

"Good with children," Daine says. "I know. That's part of it, really."

Rikash has no idea what she's talking about.

Daine shakes her head. "Don't mind me, I'm just rambling. Kitten and I'll work things out."

"Well, finish up cooking and join us," Rikash says, deciding to dismiss the issue. If it's important, it'll come up again. "The rabbits are going to tell stories, and that's always fun."

"You like rabbit stories," Daine says. "You like _rabbits_. Stormwings like rabbits! I've still got trouble with that."

"Why not?" Rikash says, shrugging. "They're always afraid, and we like fear. Just because we prey on humans and humans prey on rabbits doesn't mean we've got to dislike rabbits too; I'm sure you've seen plenty of unusual pairings between animals in the Mortal Realm."

"Oh, sure - wolves and ravens are famous for it. Just, you know... _rabbits_?"

Rikash shrugs. "Supposedly, back before the barrier, rabbits used to be the best guides. They knew their territories better than anyone - mostly because they were afraid of just about everything - and Stormwings would use their presence as a way to figure out where to put our nests. If even the rabbits think the area's safe, then it's probably safe enough for our eggs - and we're pretty particular about our eggs."

It's more than that, really - Stormwings usually nest in trees and on cliffs, where their claws can find a comfortable perch, but Stormwing eggs can only develop properly when put in the ground, where the eggs leech out the iron and carbon that goes into their steel wings. In the Abattoir that's easy enough, since the one thing Stormwings are united on is the defense of their eggs, but in the Mortal Realms, there were many hunters eager to destroy immortal eggs before they spawned. 

So Stormwings followed the rabbit-trails to their safest burrows and defended them, with their stink and sharp feathers, from the creatures that would eat rabbits. In return, the rabbits had burrows spacious enough for a Stormwing egg to be sheltered, should its parents die in its defense, and which, unlike other burrowing creatures, they did not object to sharing. Their constant fear nurtured the egg until it was born, and the rabbits knew enough of how to use their claws to teach a chick how to survive until their wings began to work.

If the Moonswords are famously dragon-friends, thanks to their history, then the Blackthorns - a bastardization of their original surname, Black-tharn, meaning Death-fear in Lapine - are equally famous for having several of their line yet living that were raised among the rabbits.

Really, it's no wonder that Dubukk Blackthorn is friends with El-Ahrairah. It'd be more of a wonder if he _wasn't_.

"I keep learning new things here in the Divine Realms," Daine remarks. "I'm not sure I like it."

"You stop learning only when you're dead," Rikash tells her. "Don't be so eager to visit the Black God's realm; I hear it's frightfully dull. Come listen to the stories."

El-Ahrairah tells one of his own adventures, of course, but it's a good one, involving lots of death and sickness before El-Ahrairah ultimately gets his gruesome revenge -

_They gave the foxes rabies?! On purpose?!_ Rikash hears Skysong whispering to Zusha.

"They eat them; fair's fair. Stop complaining."

_I like Rikash more than you._

"Shhh!"

\- and they all go to sleep quite happily after that, with Rabscuttle and Rikash both volunteering to take first watch and Skysong settling down quickly into sleep despite her complaints.

The next morning, they set out again, making it to the foothills by mid-morning and the base of one of the larger mountains by midday. 

"Here," El-Ahrairah calls. "Land here. There's a burrow just large enough to get you all inside, and the spidrens don't know about it."

_Will you be all right underground?_ Daine asks, drifting closer to Rikash. He was watching Zusha, who'd insisted on carrying Skysong today - judging by Zusha's claw movements, she appears to be trying to teach the dragon how to properly attack someone - so he starts a little at Daine's approach, then tries to pretend he wasn't. _You're flying folk, and my bird friends don't do well underground._

"Don't worry about it," Rikash assures her. "We might get a bit tense in the burrow, but once we're inside, it'll be fine."

Daine seems a little skeptical, but then they're inside - a fairly short burrow as rabbit holes go, much to everyone's relief - and she makes a sound that suggests she suddenly understands why he wasn't concerned.

_It's so large!_ Skysong exclaims.

_The whole mountain must be hollow,_ Daine agrees, eyes wide (and distinctly more owl-like than a gull's ought to be) as she looks around and down the vast cavern, miles and miles across - cliffs and valleys and caverns throughout. 

"Spidrens like having space away from each other," Rabscuttle says, clearly disapproving. "And not just different dens, which any rabbit could see the value of; they don't believe in community beyond their immediate families _at all_."

"You're looking for the Sokormuims matriarch, right?" El-Ahrairah asks. "They're north, the ones with the particularly bright-but-pale green webs."

"Which ones?" Rikash asks.

"Just past the cliff that looks like an elephant, you see the one, with all the vines? No, further to the left - yes, that one."

"Ugh," Serje says. "That's not green, that's - that's _chartreuse_."

Daine sniggers. _Awful, but true,_ she agrees. _El-Ahrairah, Rabscuttle, do you mind if I go owl for a bit? It's a bit dark in here for a gull._

"Bat might be better," Dubukk says gently. “Rabbits, remember.”

Rikash nods in agreement. Just because El-Ahrairah and Rabscuttle are gods, and thus immortal, doesn't mean dying is fun, and even having Stormwings around to protect them wouldn't make them less scared - they are rabbits, after all.

_Right, sure, that works_ , Daine agrees. She turns into a large brown bat, squeaking a little before modulating her hearing-noises to be too quiet to be heard. _Not my regular style at all, I've got to admit._

"There's benefit in doing things differently once in a while," Zusha says. "Makes you less predictable. Also, Rikash, take Skysong, will you?"

"I thought there was benefit in doing things differently," Rikash remarks, but obediently stands still as Skysong jumps down from Zusha's shoulders onto his as they both hover a few feet off the ground. "Tired of her already?"

_No, we just disagree on disemboweling techniques._

_You were talking about_ what? Daine screeches.

"You should listen to Zusha," Rikash tells Skysong. "She's done her fair share of disemboweling. Mostly recreational, but some in battle."

_Doesn't mean she's right_ , Skysong grumbles, though her tail straightens a little in interest, and she tries the claw swipe a few times under the cover of Rikash's hair. 

Rikash hides a grin.

"Predators," El-Ahrairah sniffs. "Come along. The best way - the only way, for that matter - to the Sokormuims domain is this way."

"Only way? Is it guarded?"

"Almost never."

"I don't like that almost," Zusha says. "I don't want to be accused of trespassing by angry spidrens."

"What, and being accused of assassination is better?" Serje teases.

"Clearly. That way they're at least scared of me."

" _Predators_ ," El-Ahrairah says again, shaking his head. "Come, this way - around this cavern, through the passageway under that cliff I pointed out earlier, and we'll come out just to the west side of the domain, next to the matriarch's private nest - you _do_ have a plan for once we get there, I hope?"

_We're planning on developing a plan when we see the layout,_ Daine says.

"Great," Serje grumbles.

"It worked with Yukinos," Zusha reminds him.

"True..."

"Are you sure you won't ride with me?" Dubukk asks the two rabbits currently in the lead, drifting low above them. They were in the front, with Serje and Daine behind them, Zusha catching up with lazy wing-strokes and Rikash with Skysong bringing up the tail after the mild delay of getting Skysong settled back onto his shoulders. "If we have to flee -"

"We're very good at darting away," El-Ahrairah assures him. "Not to mention teleportation; do recall that we're gods!"

"There are ways to keep a god in place," Dubukk replies. "And we're up against Uusoae, who knows all of them."

"Hm. Point," El-Ahrairah says as they pass under the belly of the elephant cliff which appeared to be the barrier between the domains. "Well, we will simply have to be tricky -"

"No," Rabscuttle suddenly says. "We have to run. _Now_!"

El-Ahrairah doesn't even hesitate; he bolts. 

Dubukk, taken by surprise but obeying at once, throwing himself forward.

As he darts ahead, however, he twists onto his back, casting lassos of Stormwing magic behind him. The lassos fall on Serje and Zusha, wrapping tight around them, and Dubukk yanks them forward with a sudden motion that sends all three of them tumbling forward and out at a much faster pace than any of them could manage alone.

Daine, who had picked a fairly small bat, squeaks with alarm as she gets caught up in flailing Stormwing limbs and pulled along with them.

"What's going on?" Rikash exclaims, speeding up to try to catch up -

But not fast enough.

There was chartreuse web covering the other end of the passageway.

Dubukk, who trusted the rabbits implicitly, had put enough magic into his escape that he'd burst out the other end, ripping a hole through the web and hauling those behind him out into the air before anyone could react.

Rikash, who was moving slower, wasn't fast enough to take advantage before more web came down to cover the gap.

He spins on a wing, hoping to get out the way they came in -

No.

More web.

Chartreuse.

He _really_ hates that color.

_We've been ambushed,_ Skysong whispers.

Rikash would tell her to stop saying the obvious, but he can feel her shivering on his shoulders. She's afraid - much more afraid than he would think, in fact; spidrens are threatening, but neither their fangs nor their claws nor their webs can pierce dragon-scale. Or Stormwing steel, for that matter.

Still, he wishes she'd stayed with Zusha; he would much rather be on his own than put her life in danger.

He wonders if there's a way to get Skysong released. After all, trap or no trap, trespassers or no trespassers, no spidren matriarch that knew what was good for her, even one allied with Uusoae, would want to go to war with the dragons, especially if they didn't know _which_ dragon Skysong was...

"Not entirely successful," a male voice says calmly - almost too calmly, like the speaker is lying on a bed half-asleep. "I wonder what gave it away."

"There was nothing," a female voice snaps back. Rikash tenses. Hearing the nasal whine in her voice, so characteristic of spidrens, highlights the absence of that trait in the male's voice. 

This isn't just a spidren trap.

Skysong is right.

This was an intentional ambush. 

And, judging by Skysong's increased shivering, she knows who's behind it, too.

"Something else you and Daine omitted?" Rikash murmurs to her.

It's a sign of how stressed she is - her scales are an unhealthy grey - that she doesn't even respond to defend herself, just crouching down further as if to hide herself.

Rikash has half a mind to try to fight his way out the second the webs are swept aside, if only for Skysong's sake, but he doesn't get a chance.

The second a gap of light appears, glittering black magic seeps through, wrapping itself like strong rope around his claws and wings and pulling him out of the trap like a trussed up turkey.

There's a humanoid mage standing there among the spidrens. 

Tall, almost lanky, with long black hair gathered into a tail and skin swarthier than Daine's, though not the brown or black of the southern lands. He's clean-shaven, though his clothing - simple traveling clothing - is dirty as though it has not been cared for or changed. 

His eyes, oddly enough, are only half-open, lending his whole face a sleepy air, as though he were sleepwalking.

Rikash doesn't recognize him.

He has a moment to think that that's strange - he knows almost all of the humanoid gods - and then the smell reaches him.

It's faint - very faint, as if buried beneath the mountain around them, so scarce as to be little more than a memory - but to a Stormwing, unmistakable.

Fear.

_Human_ fear.

This mage isn't just humanoid - he's a human.

Why is there a human mage in the Divine Realms?

The spidrens around him - monstrously large spiders, with bulging bodies, hairy legs, and pale human faces filled with sharp silver teeth - are almost reassuringly normal by contrast.

The mage waves a hand and a second tendril drags another figure forward - Rabscuttle, snarling angrily.

He must have been captured while covering El-Ahrairah's retreat.

(He sparks silver every few moments - the sure sign of a failed transposition, a god's teleportation stymied before it even begins. This is why people, gods included, should listen to Dubukk!)

"A Stormwing and a rabbit god," the mage says, his voice smooth to the point of dullness. "Pity. I would have expected Daine to use an eagle or an owl, which would have been caught by the web. This is not exactly the catch we were hoping - ah, but not a total loss, it seems. Hello, Kitten. It's good to see you again."

Again?!

_I'm not talking to you right now,_ Skysong says, trying for bravado but unable to erase the quavering in her voice. _So don't even try._

"Very well," the human mage says calmly. "That's fine. We don't need to talk; I know Daine will come back for you."

He waves a hand and the three of them - Rikash, Skysong and Rabscuttle - all get pushed together and a cage made of the same glittering black magic appears around them. 

The spidren matriarch by the mage's side sneers at them. "Well, that's something," she says. "Your plan, mage; not mine - remember that!"

"Indeed," the mage says, voice still mild. "I will go and ensure your borders are well protected, in the event they try to make a sudden rescue attempt. Otherwise, they will pause for long enough to think of a plan, and that will let us marshal our forces."

" _My_ forces!" she exclaims, but he's already walking off. She snorts at his retreating form. "Maggot-for-brains mage."

Then she turns back to them, grinning with sharp silver teeth. "Well, well," she says. "A Stormwing, a god, and a dragon, caught red-handed trespassing onto my territory."

_None of us even have hands,_ Skysong says, regaining her bravery as the mage vanishes from view. _I have claws, Stormwings have wings, and he's a rabbit._

The spidren matriarch ignores this. "I will destroy you for the pleasure of my nest-kin," she gloats. "It will be a monument to my glory and the glory of the Sokormuims - and you will die cursing the name of Keralynn!"

Rikash blinks. "Keralynn?" he can't help but ask. "That's your name? Really?" 

She scowls at him. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" 

"Well," he says. "I mean. It sounds like - Caroline. But - misspelled?"

Keralynn scoffs. "It's a _unique_ spelling."

"Ah," Rikash says. He's not familiar with spidren names. "And your associates -" 

There was a small group of spidrens watching, four or five depending on how many legs that divided into. 

"- are able to spell that, are they?"

"Of course they are," Keralynn snaps. "Enough of this. Derryn, Maddyson, I want you to shore up the defenses on our borders. Lyndziy, Jayyden, prepare the center auditorium for the execution - we will proceed as soon as we have captured the remaining trespassers. Aliviyah -"

"I'm sorry," Rikash says. "Was that supposed to be _Olivia_?"

"Not enough 'y's," Aliviyah says with a haughty sniff. "It's not unique enough without them."

Rikash opens his mouth, but Skysong raps him sharply on the back of the head with her snout.

He desists.

Barely.

He knows it's rude to mock, and unwise given their current about-to-be-executed position, but those are all _really_ bad names. 

The spidrens skitter off, following their matriarch's orders, and - a glare at Rikash later - she follows them, leaving them alone in the middle of the cavern.

Rabscuttle tries to gnaw on one of the bars of the cage, but only gets shocked for his trouble. 

"Don't do that," Rikash says. "If he can keep you from teleporting, he can make those impassable."

"I know," Rabscuttle says, nose twitching with anxiety. "But if I'm in here, El-Ahrairah is out there _alone_."

_He has Daine and the other Stormwings_ , Skysong points out a second before Rikash does.

Rabscuttle snorts. "Yes," he says mournfully. "More ammunition. Something's going to blow up, I'm telling you this now."

"As long as it's not us, I'm fine with that," Rikash remarks.

_It might be us_ , Skysong says darkly. _You never know._

Rikash can feel his eyebrows going up. "Okay, that's it," he says. "Hop off, Skysong; I want to look at you when I scold you."

_That's not much incentive,_ she complains, but she clambers off his shoulders anyway, shrinking in on herself. She's recovered a little from the unhealthy colorless shade she'd had earlier, but she's still grey around the edges. _I guess you want to know about..._

She trails off.

"Yes," Rikash says, but he leans down and presses his cheek to her head to assure her that he's not angry at her. "I want to know about the human mage. He knew you by nickname, he said you were meeting again, and you were terrified of him. Who is he?"

Skysong stays silent. 

"Skysong -"

"I know him," Rabscuttle says. "He used to do experiments on rabbits, before he met Daine and thought twice of it. He's a Tortallan mage."

"Tortall? Isn't that the human nation that Daine belongs to?"

_Yes_ , Skysong whispers. _It is. And his name is Numair._

Rikash frowns. "Daine mentioned that name," he says. "The way she talked about him, though, I thought he was a friend, an ally. What happened?"

_The war,_ Skysong says, still whispering. _It took so long - too long -_

"Start at the beginning," Rabscuttle instructs. "It'll only get confusing, otherwise. Where'd you meet him?"

_Oh, Daine's known him forever_ , Skysong says, brightening at the idea of telling a story she knows, the mix of terror and guilt and shame that no little dragon should feel to such an extent fading. _Since before I was born, anyway - she met him when he was trapped in hawk-form, and cared for him like a hawk, and then he turned back to human and became her teacher. He's the finest mage in all of Tortall, and the only one who knew anything about wild magic._

Rikash doesn't particularly like the sound of the man being the best mage in Tortall, if he's perfectly honest, given that he’s their enemy now, but it is certainly useful information. Clearly Rabscuttle was right in having Skysong start at the beginning.

_They fought in the war together, traveling together every which way when Daine wasn't busy with the horses at the capital. They even went to Carthak together -_

"That's when Ozorne tried to kidnap Daine and frame him for it, right?"

_Yes. Ozorne put me under a sleep spell, so I didn't wake up till we were near home - after that trip they started sleeping in each other's bedrolls like it was a secret or something. Not that it lasted as a secret, everyone figured it out and there was a lot of yelling by their friends and whispers in the court that made Numair blow stuff up and stuff._

"This mage is Daine's mate?" Rabscuttle asks, disapproving. "And he's _hunting_ her?"

_Well, no,_ Skysong says. _They used to be mates, I think, for a few years? But then they tried to live together and that didn't work - he liked to get up at every hour to do whatever experiment he'd thought of right away, and Daine didn't like him bothering the animals when he did, and he liked peace and quiet to work in more than he liked animal noises and Daine liked animal noises - so they split into two bedrooms. And then she got called away on one thing and him on another, and when they got back they talked for three days straight before remembering they'd never gotten around to kissing. And then they talked about it and decided they were better friends than mates. They still live in the same tower, you know, Mages' Tower, but they're not courting anymore._

Rikash finds the sudden leaden feeling in his belly fading. Amiable ex-lovers, that's fine. Much better than being mates.

Really, it was only his objection to mates hunting each other that caused such negative emotions to spring up; not just the idea of Daine having a mate already.

Because that would be silly, and pointless, and anyway there are lots of humans other than this mage out there - just because she isn't mated to him doesn't mean she's not mated at all and he should just accept that now to lessen the disappointment later.

Not that there's any reason to be disappointed, of course...

"All that's well and good," Rabscuttle says. "But if they're on such good terms, why's he hunting her now?"

Skysong's little wing-stubs droop. _Like I said. It was the war. Everyone's so sick and tired of it, it's been going on so long...everyone wanted to find a way to end it. And when the Great Gods made their first offer to Daine, we found out that Chaos was behind the war -_

"First?" Rikash interrupts. "First offer?"

_To come to the Divine Realms and hunt down the enemies of the gods, and to a certain extent also of Tortall. Daine said no, the first few times they asked; it'd mean leaving Tortall undefended, and the Gods always refused to interfere in what they called local politics and Daine wasn't having any of that._

Rikash hadn't realized she'd said no the first few times, though now that he thinks of it that does seem to fit with the character of someone who rejected the Graveyard Hag's offer of bone-dancing magic because it came with strings.

_But then Numair got the idea that maybe we could cut off the power Chaos - Uusoae - was feeding in to her champions directly, without leaving the Mortal Realms. Using magic._

Rikash makes a face. "Let me guess. He found or invented a spell to open the door to Uusoae's realm. There’s always a few of those lingering in the human realm for idiots to get ahold of."

_Yeah._

"That's a terrible idea," Rabscuttle says. "And he didn't get eaten?"

_He took precautions so that it was only open a little bit, and somewhere that couldn't spill out, and he closed it after only a second the first time he tried it. He just wanted to see what it was like so that he had a better idea of how to deal with it._

"Thereby exposing himself to chaos-stuff, and Uusoae's influence."

_Yes_ , Skysong says solemnly. _It was after that he started acting - weird._

"Uusoae took control of him."

_Yes. At first he thought he was sick, or that someone'd cursed him, because he was still strong enough to fight back against her then. But it got worse and worse and he didn't tell anyone about the experiment he'd done until it was too late. We - he tried to kill Daine, and another of our friends called Alanna. After that, we weren't sure - we're not sure - if there's anything of him left in there._

"Oh, there is," Rikash says automatically. "Buried deep, but it's there. What happens next?"

Skysong twists to stare at him. _No, wait - how do you know? Have you seen it happen before, that sort of chaos-corruption?_

"Not like that, no," Rikash says. "Gods get corrupted in a different way, and immortals don't generally open doors to Chaos so as to get a direct hit."

_Then how are you so sure?_

"Because Uusoae doesn't know fear," Rikash tells her, reaching out with a wing to gently nudge her in silent comfort. "And that mage is afraid. Deep down, he's still afraid. Trust a Stormwing when it comes to human fear."

"Uusoae needs his body and his magic and a twisted shadow of his mind and memories, and that means she probably put him in a state of near-dreaming," Rabscuttle says thoughtfully. "That's why he looks so sleepy - his body's nearly comatose. The fear's probably him being afraid that he's _not_ dreaming."

_So he's still fighting her?_

"One assumes."

_Daine'll be relieved to hear that_ , Skysong says. _She was afraid he was dead - inside, I mean._

"Not yet," Rikash says. "But - that is -"

"Don't tell her," Rabscuttle says bluntly. "The extraction of Uusoae's influence may be fatal. If the young _ela_ thinks he's dead already, she won't hesitate the way she might if there's hope. Her life may depend on how ruthless she's capable of being."

Skysong's face, which was brightening, crumbles. This Numair was clearly more than just Daine's old lover - Skysong clearly loved him dearly as well. 

_You're right_ , she says miserably. _She'd be better off not knowing. But I can't keep a secret from Daine!_

"You can do it," Rikash assures her. "It's to save her _life_. That's worth a bit of guilt, isn't it?"

_I guess..._

"It's hard," he says. "I know. If it's anything, you don't have to decide now - wait until we get rescued."

_You seem confident that we will._

"Of course we will," Rabscuttle interjects. "El-Ahrairah leads them."

Rikash rolls his eyes. "Daine and Zusha and Dubukk aren't all that shabby, either." He pauses, then grudgingly adds, "And Serje, I guess."

Skysong giggles. _He's so sour! Is that why you dislike him?_

"We dislike each other," Rikash corrects her. "It's a perfectly respectable mutual distaste."

_But why?_

Rikash shrugs. "Why _not_?"

_That's not a good reason._

"Do you like everyone you meet?"

_Well, no, but -_

"The mage is returning, and he's not alone," Rabscuttle says suddenly. His long ears are cocked, his hackles raised; his legs are tensed to run.

They go quiet, straining to hear. Rikash doesn't hear anything, and since Stormwing senses are about equivalent to dragon senses, he doubts Skysong does, either. Still, neither of them is a god.

A few moments later, the sleepy-looking mage turns a corner, accompanied by -

"Two?!" Rikash hisses. " _Two_ coldfangs? What in the dancing of Mother Flame did Daine do to deserve _two_ coldfangs set on her tail?"

"Talk about overkill," Rabscuttle agrees.

_She didn't do anything_ bad, Skysong protests.

"I didn't say she did," Rikash says. "But coldfangs hunt _thieves_. What did Daine steal?"

_Numair had a necklace that Uusoae gave him_ , Skysong says. _Daine thought that was how she was controlling him, but it isn't; it's just how she channels additional power to him. It's Uusoae's anchor to the Mortal Realms. We couldn't leave it in his hands._

"Skysong," Rikash replies, keeping his voice low. "Am I to understand from your use of the present tense that you're saying Daine didn't destroy that thing at once? That she still has it?"

_She didn't have a choice! Before we figured out how to destroy it, he started chasing her to get it back. That's when we realized he'd follow us wherever we went. He's the strongest mage in Tortall, if not all the Eastern Lands; we_ had _to get him out of Tortall. That's why Daine did her deal with the Great Gods. As long as he's here, he's not there._

"And in the meantime, he's here," Rikash says. "With _two_ coldfangs."

_At least in the Divine Realms we have a chance to lose him, or to delay him. In the Mortal Realms...well, it wouldn't be much of a war. Just a massacre. He's very strong._

Numair passes besides their cage without sparing them the slightest glance.

The same couldn't be said of the coldfangs. The giant lizards with thick pebbled skins are blind, so they flick their tongues out at them, scenting the air, and then rattle their tails at Rikash in particular.

Rikash mantles his wings and hisses back.

"Stormwing, stop taunting the coldfangs," Rabscuttle says. 

Rikash ignores him, keeping his focus on them as they waddle away, tagging along with the mage like dogs at heel. 

Once the trio is gone, he relaxes.

"Did that make you feel better?" Rabscuttle asks acidly. 

"Did you miss the part where Skysong said 'we'?" Rikash replies. "If not a thief herself, she's certainly guilty of aiding and abetting a theft. Coldfangs don't really care much about that distinction - but they can't smell it through a Stormwing's battle-aura."

Rabscuttle snorts, but nods, acknowledging the point. 

That's when the spidren matriarch - Rikash still can't believe her name is Keralynn - scuttles back in, followed by over a dozen of her kind.

"Jayyden, get the mage to take down the cage," she snaps, then grins widely. "It's execution time."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rikash says. "We heard it loud and clear that we're bait; you can't kill us until you've lured in the others."

Rabscuttle headbutts his side. 

"The _dragon_ is bait," Keralynn says. "You, on the other hand..."

Great.

_You can't hurt Rikash!_ Skysong exclaims, aghast.

"Ah, a name at last!" Keralynn crows. "Even better! We'll chant it over your corpse! And as for the rabbit -"

She grins again, shoving her face up close to the bars.

"You'll feed my children for centuries," she gloats. "Your misfortune, then, to be the god of such a tasty people –”

Rabscuttle leaps forward, using the full force of his legs. He hits the cage, but the abrupt movement is enough to send Keralynn stumbling back to land on her hindquarters with a very undignified thud.

"Enough," she shrieks. "Get them!"

The spidrens are just smart enough to wrap them in sticky web _before_ getting Numair to release their cage, though a glittering black aura settles on Rabscuttle's shoulders to continue to keep him from teleporting.

_You should've bitten her nose off_ , Skysong grumbles as they're carted over to a more central cavern for their execution-slash-torture.

"A tiny upturned nose like that? It'd never make it through the bars," Rabscuttle sighs. "If I get a chance, though..."

The spidrens chatter cheerfully as they sling web to suspend both Rabscuttle and Rikash (with Skysong clinging onto his back hard enough to leave clawmarks and hissing at one who tried to knock her free) in between stakes of wood.

Rikash tries to eavesdrop, hoping it would give rise to some suggestion of escape, but no: their conversation revolves around the decor of their nests, the (largely unchanging) weather, and an apparently very competitive institution relating to the instruction of their children that they are all a part of.

The main purpose of the institution appeared to be social climbing rather than actually educating children, but then Rikash does suppose spidren children need to learn climbing as an early essential skill...

"You'll never believe it," one remarks suddenly, loud enough to be difficult to ignore, "but Makynnleigh's rock garden has _moles_."

One of the spidrens gasps. "Does _not_!" she shrieks, outraged, stamping her many feet. "Who said that?"

Silence for a few moments.

And then, very quietly, as if murmured - "It's true, you know; I saw her rebuilding her circle formation just the other day after it'd been toppled."

Makynnleigh snarls. "Is that you, Janyce?" she demands. "It'd better not be - you have _droppings_ all over yours. A health hazard!"

"It most certainly wasn't me," another spidren snarls. "And how dare you! I do not!"

"Doesn't mean you have taste," coughs the voice.

"Is that you Gabriylla?" he demands. "Hiding your rank prejudice behind Beythany again, no doubt, the way you always do -"

"- and anyway, you _do_ have moles!" Janyce shouts.

"I do not! You take that back!" Makynnleigh shrieks, and then lunches forward, claws outstretched. "You probably sabotaged it yourself, just like you did the Pie Baking Competition -"

Janyce lunges back.

"Stop that this instant," Keralynn thunders. "We have a -"

"I got second place in that competition!" another spidren shouts. "You dirty cheat! I _knew_ my pie was better than yours!"

He lunges over Keralynn's back, and one of his legs snags onto her hair.

She shrieks with pain and rage and turns on him, and after that the whole set of spidrens are suddenly turning on each other.

_What is happening?_ Skysong asks blankly.

"They're fighting," Rikash says, equally blank. "Over - pie? And...yard management?"

"Over social standing," Rabscuttle says, sounding smug. "And that's common among virtually every species. Isn't that right, El-Ahrairah?"

Rikash and Skysong twist to look at once, only to see a grinning rabbit god gnawing on the web keeping them all in place, and making pretty significant progress, too.

_You're good at mimicking voices, aren't you?_ Skysong asks in a delighted whisper.

"And throwing his voice," Rabscuttle confirms, since El-Ahrairah is busy putting his sharp front teeth to good use.

"There's still two dozen spidrens, though," Rikash points out, eyeing the brawling happening before him. "And until I get the web off my wings - and this human magic - I can't fly out of here."

El-Ahrairah spits out some web as he finishes one thick strand. "Oh," he says as he turns to another, "I wouldn't worry too much about that."

The second he's finished with the webbing keeping them all tied to the poles, a loudly hooting ape twice the size of any of the winged apes swings down on one of the vines hanging off the elephant-shaped cliff, snatches up Rikash and Skysong in one large arm, and continues the swing to leap off the other side and land on a nearby rock cluster.

If Daine's bow and quiver weren't nestled there waiting, Rikash would almost have trouble guessing it was her.

(He's never felt more like a rescued damsel in his life.)

Daine lands them all, puts Rikash and Skysong down, turns back to human and grabs her bow to start shooting.

Her first seven arrows all find targets in spidren throats - a tricky shot, given their brawling. Rikash isn't going to lie: he's impressed.

Her eighth arrow finds its way into the eye of a screeching Keralynn moments before her head is smashed into the ground by a mutinous spidren female - Maddyson, if Rikash caught the names right. Looks like the Sokormuims spidrens are about to have a new matriach.

Daine's ninth arrow, however, freezes in mid-air, caught by a glittering black cloud.

Numair stands at the end of the clearing, his expression still pleasant and vacant; the two coldfangs are by his side. 

"Hello, Daine," he calls.

Rikash starts urgently trying to scrape away what's left of the webbing on his wings. If this human mage is as good as Skysong says, Rikash thinks he's going to need his ability to fly, and very soon, too.

Daine ignores him, continuing to fire arrows steadily, but while one or two more get through, the rest don't, just hovering in the air as if on a thread by magic. 

"Daine, it's rude to ignore me," Numair says calmly. The coldfangs leave his side at a gesture from him, tongues flickering out to taste the air, and start crawling in their direction. "You know why I'm here -"

That's when Zusha, Serje, and Dubukk come screeching down from the dark heights of the cavern, battle-aura cast before them like a swiftly approaching shield-line.

Rikash freezes in horror, certain he's about to see their pointless deaths - human mages are not to be toyed with! - but they aren't aiming for Numair.

They're aiming at the coldfangs.

And that's when Rikash figures out the plan.

Everyone knows, of course, that coldfangs emit an aura of shivering cold, designed to helplessly freeze their targets into place in much the same way that the Stormwing battle-aura paralyzes its victims with fear or sends them into a frenzy of panic. 

It's not really a surprise: both auras take advantage of the fight-or-flight mechanism inside the brain of virtually any creature, mortal or otherwise.

But where the coldfangs' aura is an extension of their coldness, the Stormwings' aura paralyzes because it _overheats_ , using the hot press of war to stimulate wave after wave of fear until the victim either shuts down or loses control.

And when cold and hot meet -

There's an explosion of steam.

The blast knocks everyone in the nearby radius off their feet - including Numair, who never finishes his sentence.

Rikash can feel the black magic pressing down on his shoulders and strangling his own immortal magic dissipate as the mage's concentration shatters.

His wings are still sticky with web, but it doesn't matter: half of Stormwing flight is magic-based, anyway.

"Run!" Daine shouts.

That seems somewhat inappropriate, given that they are mostly winged creatures, but the order still works: the Stormwings scramble up and away, Dubukk's usually flawless flying impaired by the appearance (heralded by silver fog) of two rabbits on his back, and Rikash pushes himself after them as fast as he can with his magic, Skysong clinging to his back and Daine following after in her eagle form with her bow and quiver clutched in her claws.

They rush up - up past the borders of the spidren caverns, blasting through the thick weave of webs that hang above. The webs shudder from within, resisting some form of pressure, and then abruptly split - and hundreds of striga, grotesque bat-hybrids with human heads, belch forth from where they have been waiting.

A striga swarm is not something any creature, god or immortal or mortal, wants to get caught in.

Luckily, the striga are aimed at the spidrens below, and their little group is able to fly above their heads - into their caverns - and up, up, _up_ through a small gap in the mountain that sends them spiraling into sunlight once more.

"Okay," Rikash allows. "That was pretty impressive."

_Daine! Daine!_ Skysong calls. _How'd you get the striga to attack the spidrens?_

Daine glides closer, shifting effortlessly from eagle to albatross in mid-air now that speed is no longer of the essence. 

_That part was surprisingly easy_ , she says. _Apparently spidrens make for terrible neighbors. The striga don't want to start a war, but if by chance they accidentally swarm in the wrong direction - and everyone knows they're uncontrollable during a swarm - then it's not really their fault if they release their bowels all over those precious spidren yards, is it?_

Rikash barks out a surprised laugh, even as Skysong dissolves into giggles. "Oh, that's good," he says. "Very good; well done!"

Daine laughs as well, giving him a beaky grin. _Thank El-Ahrairah; it was his idea. The Prince of a Thousand Tricks - he wasn't joking!_

"He _is_ a trickster," Rikash says. "But you still talked them into it, didn't you? In your bat form?"

_That's right. We all thought they'd react better to that - and they did. Who would've thought that striga, of all things, honor the hospitality customs of bats?_

"We all have hidden depths," Rikash says, grinning. "Except spidrens. No one likes -"

His voice cuts off abruptly. 

"Oh, come on!" he adds, glaring downwards. He knows that feeling. "That was an _exaggeration_ , not a lie, you persnickety bastards!"

_Who are you yelling at?_ Skysong asks.

_Griffins!_ Daine exclaims, having clearly tested out her own ability to lie. _We must have come out right by the griffin eyries!_

"Great," Serje says, drifting up to where they are, Zusha and Dubukk only a few feet behind him. "Can we leave? Not being able to lie makes me -" He pauses irritably for a few moments. "Sometimes I get itchy."

Daine snorts. _You're completing your lies by conjoining two separate sentences? That's smart._

"The best lies are truths strung together in such a way as to give the other side a false impression," Serje says with a shrug. "Now can we leave?"

_Maybe we should ask them for directions_ , Skysong suggests. _Griffins are highlanders, right? They might know who Soareth is._

“Excellent idea,” Zusha says. “It’d be terrible to have to double back if we missed him.”

_Oh, hardly,_ Daine objects. _It's not like Soareth is going to be a griffin._

"And why not?" Serje wants to know. "Just because they're part of the so-called 'good' immortals? Don't be ridiculous. Any species can be good or evil - that's what individuality _means_." He pauses, again. "Though spidrens are often an exception to many rules."

_You're doing the conjoined-lie thing again_ , Skysong says, delighted.

_Lies aside, you have a point_ , Daine says grimly. _I have been painting with too wide a brush - Kitten, you can stop smirking at me right now, don't think I don't see you - and it's tripping me up. I still don’t think it’s the griffins, though. Don’t they all have those terrible unpronounceable names…?_

“Says the girl who goes by ‘Daine’ instead of ‘Veralidaine’,” Rikash can’t help but point out.

_…let's just go check the griffins._

"I could use the opportunity to clean up my wings first," Rikash says. "I'm not as good a mage as Dubukk - I still use my wings to fly half the time."

That settled, they slowly drift down towards a clearing not far from the rocky cliffs surrounding a gigantic mountain lake where the griffins make their nests.

_Our griffins nested by the sea_ , Daine comments as they descend. _The ones I met, I mean; that live in Tortall. They eat fish._

"Slightly different species, I think," Dubukk offers. "Just like there are brown bat striga and black bat striga and pipstrelle bat striga, there are different types of griffin, too. I know of at least one lowlander griffin breed. They do all love fish, though."

"And stink of them, too," Zusha grumbles, using her claws to pick mulishly at her much-deteriorated layer of dirt. "At least we're much closer to home from here than if we went around."

"Told you it was a shortcut," Dubukk says proudly.

"Yes, one we are _never_ \- oh, damn griffins - one that we will _most likely_ not be using again," Zusha says. "The spidrens know Rikash's name; they'll be angry at the Stone Tree nation."

"I'll tell Queen Barzha about it," Rikash says, wincing. "She'll figure out how to keep them from declaring war. But yes, I think that shortcut might not be the most convenient."

"It got us closer to home," Serje says, firm as ever in the defense of his friend. "And we - well, Daine - killed the spidren matriarch, and that's nothing to be sneered at."

“That’s a story that’ll live on for a while,” El-Ahrairah says smugly. “ _And_ it was aimed at spiders, too – take _that_ , Ananze!”

Rikash rolls his eyes.

Rabbits. Honestly.

_Painfully_ honestly, in fact, since they’re near griffin territory.

The second after they land, Skysong leaps off Rikash’s shoulders and bounds toward Daine, who shifts back to human to catch her. 

_I missed you! I was so afraid,_ she babbles, her youth finally breaking through her brave front. _Oh, and poor Numair was there – and we were in a_ cage _and_ –

Daine hugs her. “It’s all right,” she says, though she sounds as though it hurts a little to say. “We’re safe now, and no one’s going to put you in a cage. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

Rikash decides to turn his back on them to give them some privacy, reaching out with his wings to try to scrape away more webbing.

Before he can scratch himself, though, a silver mist falls on his shoulders and the webbing all abruptly disappears.

Rikash straightens. “Thanks,” he tells the two rabbit gods, which are also now on the ground. “Much appreciated.”

“We appreciate your sharing your adventure with us!” El-Ahrairah exclaims. “What fun. I must make sure to remind my people of the benefits of allying with Stormwings, once the barrier falls and the immortals return to the Mortal Realms, and this story will help with that. It will be told in a thousand burrows.”

“That sounds nice,” Dubukk says, because of course he’d think that.

Rikash, whose primary role was that of the damsel in distress, isn’t quite so sure, but he’s not going to disagree with a god, even a minor one. 

“Thanks,” he says again. “Are you planning on staying with us as we go to the griffins?”

“No,” Rabscuttle says firmly before El-Ahrairah can answer. “We must return to our own burrows, lest our people get into trouble without us, and anyway I have an Owsla I’m supposed to be running.”

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose you’re right,” El-Ahrairah says. “You usually are, Rabscuttle. May your journey forward be well-lit and filled with the greenest grasses – which you should eat more of, young Stormwing. You look skinny.”

Rikash snorts. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, amused by the rabbit god’s sudden turn into a brooding mother. “Safe journeys to you as well: fly with wings of steel, and fear nothing.”

Goodbyes said, the two rabbit gods dissolve into silver fog, which in turn dissipates quickly.

“Pity,” Zusha remarks. “They were quite useful. That was a well-chosen alliance, Dubukk.”

Dubukk beams.

"Of course he chose well," Serje sniffs. "On another subject, Rikash, I want to take the lead in dealing with the griffins."

Rikash's eyebrows arch without him even intending it. "Why?"

"Because I'm ill-tempered and stubborn, and I hate truth spells on principle," Serje says. 

Rikash considers this point. It's certainly all true, personality-wise. While normally it isn't a selling point, the fact that they're going in to assassinate someone means that Serje's inability to be diplomatic won't be much of a hindrance. 

Besides, griffins probably won't know how to deal with someone who would find a way to lie just out of sheer spitefulness.

"Fair enough," Rikash says. "You can take point, and we'll follow your orders - to the point of reason, of course."

Serje looks pleased. 

"If I think you're flying off the gage, I'm taking back over," Rikash warns him.

"That's fine," Serje says dismissively. "It won't be an issue. Come on, Zusha, let's go harry the godborn until she hurries up - has she gotten dressed _again_?"

"I don't know why she does that," Zusha agrees, shaking her head - as much at Daine's antics as of Serje's immediate need to display his authority by ordering her to do a task that would have gotten done even without intervention. "She'll only need to get it off again soon enough."

Rikash is secretly glad they both agree that it's bizarre. He was starting to worry it was just him.

Dubukk gives Rikash's wing a friendly little nudge once Serje and Zusha are gone. "That was good," he says.

Rikash blinks. "What was?"

"Letting him take point even though you don't like him," Dubukk says, blunt as ever. "You were already an improvement over Tairn, but your willingness to let other people shine shows that you'll be a good Lord."

Rikash flushes. "Half the time that's just laziness, you know."

Dubukk shrugs. "Laziness, management skills, call it what you will; it's more impressive than you think. I'm not the only one who's noticed."

With that, he takes wing and glides over to where Daine is. Rikash follows a second later, wondering what Dubukk meant. 

"- way is it from here?" Daine is asking, swinging her quiver onto her back. "I'd druther walk and keep my bow out if we think there'll be trouble."

"Fair enough," Serje says. "It's due west from here, along the river. But you follow my lead, you got it?"

"Not a problem," Daine says, smothering a smile. "Griffins hurt my head anyway; they're too loud."

"They're shouters," Zusha agrees. "Comes from being too big, I think."

Given that one griffin is about the size of two or three Stormwings, she's not wrong. 

"Follow me," Serje instructs, then heads off. 

Rikash glances at Skysong, but she seems inclined to walk by Daine's side instead of riding. He can't blame her for wanting to keep close to her guardian after their experience in the caverns.   
It's less than a half hour later that they encounter their first griffin.

Or, rather, when someone says in an unnecessarily loud and booming mental voice that comes out of nowhere, _Trespassers! Why are you here?_

"Oh, relax! We're not here to steal eggs or chicks!" Serje calls back, bristling in a way that would probably be perceived as irritation, but which Rikash can see is puffed up. Serje's too pleased with himself to be properly annoyed. 

Sure enough, though, the griffin takes Serje at his word and relaxes, its hackles going down even though Serje didn't actually answer his question.

Huh. Maybe Serje actually knows what he's doing, for once.

The griffin steps out of the forest a moment later.

Like most of its kind, it’s an unnecessarily gigantic lion covered in feathers with an eagle’s head and wings. This particular one has a front half with embarrassingly large ear tufts, making it generally resemble a barn owl, and it hasn’t shed all of its gold feathers in favor of the mottled antique silver that is the rest of its plumage.

Young, then.

Rikash sympathizes.

_You probably shouldn’t be here_ , the griffin says, a little fretfully.

“Well, we are,” Serje immediately replies. “Is this all the greeting we’re getting? Honestly! I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

The griffin looks taken aback. _I – well – I mean, there aren’t any spare people for guards. Not that there need to be, given the situation –_

Serje all but pounces. “Situation? What situation?”

_That’s not your business._

“Hey! I told you something about our plans! You should tell me something about yours.”

Rikash supposes that technically, declaring their lack of intent to steal eggs or chicks counts as saying _something_. Not much of something, but still something. Just enough to be truthful, anyway.

_One of the nest-leaders is trying to claim dominion over the others_ , the griffin says, sounding almost relieved to tell someone about it. _That normally only happens in times of war! No one outside of the nest-leaders understands what’s going on, no one is talking, and now all the females are stressing out – and it’s egg season! It’s not good for them!_

“Well, that seems like a problem,” Serje says. “Is that Soareth, then, that’s doing all this? Or that's his nickname in Common, anyway?”

The griffin blinks at them. _Yes. You know him?_

No, but Serje’s a damn good guesser.

“I’d really love to meet him,” Serje says. “In fact –”

_They are at war with him,_ another griffin, this one pale bronze, says, stepping out of the forest with five others of his breed right behind him. The silver griffin they were talking to cringes back away from him. _It is always good to know one’s enemies, in war. Isn’t that right, Stormwing?_

“Can’t object to old mother’s sayings,” Serje replies, eyes narrowing. The other griffins are quickly padding around them, encircling them, but there’s nothing to be done about that: in a race between griffin and Stormwing, griffins will win every time. “Do you mean to say you’re the Soareth we’re looking for?”

_I am_ , the bronze one – Soareth – says. _I am impressed that you found me so quickly; Numair had estimated I would be last on your little list because you would not suspect griffins._

Okay, they know about the list. Not good. That means that they won’t be able to surprise any of the others, and that they will have time to prepare a defense – which means more ambushes, like the spidrens.

On the bright side, apparently they’re blundering in the right general direction. Just goes to show that in the battle between luck and skill, one should always go with luck.

“Why are you doing this?” Daine asks. Her bow is still pointed down, but she has an arrow on the string and a narrow-eyed look of determination. “Why would a griffin support Uusoae, when you know she’s only going to eat everything?”

_I do not support Uusoae_ , Soareth says sharply, his eyes flickering to the griffins around him. _But I can use an alliance for my own benefit._

Rikash glances at Serje, who nods shallowly, confirming Rikash’s read on the situation.

Looks like Uusoae taught a griffin how to lie to other griffins.

“What are you planning on getting out of an alliance like that?” Zusha jeers. “Last place in the eating line?”

_I believe that griffins are better off without humans,_ Soareth snaps back, clearly irritated. _If Uusoae continues to wreak havoc using the immortals, the Great Gods will believe that the contact between immortals and humans is to blame – and they will put up the barrier of their own free will. For good!_

“Put _up_ the barrier?” Rikash exclaims, horrified. “Block us all in? But we Stormwings feed on human fear! Locking us in the Divine Realms would be a death sentence!”

“Intolerable,” Zusha agrees. “The only reason anyone agreed not to riot when it first went up was because it was human-made, and therefore limited in time. A barrier imposed by the Great Gods – the Stormwings have already suffered so much from our deprivation. We’d never tolerate that.”

“We wouldn’t have much of a choice,” Serje mutters, but he looks deeply disturbed by the idea, and Dubukk doesn’t look any happier. 

Daine is quiet, but her hands have tightened into fists, knuckles white.

“You realize that we would be obliged to make war upon you to stop this, right?” Rikash asks Soareth – speaking less to him than to the other griffins in the circle, many of whom are   
shifting from paw to paw, looking unhappy; the full ramifications of the plan clearly hadn’t occurred to them. “Not just us; all the immortals that require humans, one way or another. And there’s a lot of us.”

_The barrier is good for griffins_ , Soareth says, unmoved. _The other species – if you die out, you die out, and there will be more room for us. If it comes to war, I am not concerned._

“Not concerned is a long way away from saying you think your side will win,” Serje says, sneering. “Have you ever actually said the words? Or just played games? The reason for your lack of concern could be because Uusoae’s going to eat you up first –”

_Enough! I will not listen to the words of trespassers. You will be taken to Numair; he will repay us with magic enough to let us do as we please, divine barrier or no. Surrender now, or we will take you by force._

“We’re not really the surrender type,” Daine says, her bow still at ready. She’s watching Soareth closely, but his wings are arched and out – he’d be able to block any shot she makes before it hit anything vital, and then they’d be in real trouble with all the others. Griffins are an honorable species: a proper duel is one thing, but a war is a war. 

_It does not matter if you resist_ , Soareth says. _You cannot lie before us, and that means you cannot make a plan to escape us that we will not hear the truth of._

Serje glances at Rikash.

Rikash scowls back at him. “This was your idea!” he shouts. “You were the one who wanted to take the lead! I should have known – you always were terrible at plans!”

“Me, terrible?” Serje snaps back, twisting to turn to face Rikash. “Look at you! You’re still not molted, and you call yourself a Lord? Pah!”

“I _am_ a Lord – your Lord! But you’ve never respected me, have you?” Rikash lunges forward, wings at the ready, but Serje leaps back, evading him. “I should have made my feelings about you known long ago!”

“And I you!” This time, Serje is the one to swing a wing, but Rikash takes to the air and dashes over his head.

_Don’t fight!_ Skysong exclaims. _It’s not anyone’s fault! Stop fighting!_

“He started it!” Rikash exclaims. “His plan, his ideas – always you, Serje, always you! You’re such a pain! Ill-tempered! Stubborn!”

The griffins watch as they jab back and forth, eagle faces curled up in amusement. 

“Yeah, well, you’re _sentimental_! Arrogant!”

“I still fight better than you!”

“At least I’m full-grown!”

“Leave off my age!”

“Leave off my plans!”

“I’ll leave off your plans when they work,” Rikash says, coming to land again, this time right before Soareth.

“They do work,” Serje says, and dives at him. “Now!”

Rikash spins, steel wings extended with the cutting edge out, aiming for Soareth’s legs; Serje goes for the torso, claws and wings both. 

Soareth, taken by surprise, rears back.

“We challenge you!” Serje shouts, even as he dodges a swipe from Soareth’s claws. “For our freedom – and your kin’s!”

Soareth tries to go for Rikash with his beak, but Rikash uses his magic to push himself sideways, then throws himself forward to headbutt Soareth’s midsection.

Soareth wasn’t expecting such brawling technique, so he staggers back, giving Serje the chance to come in from above, wing chopping down hard.

Soareth twists his body, cat-like, and pulls away from the blow, but only with a deep cut in his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare interfere!” Rikash can hear Zusha shouting. “It’s a right proper challenge – the Great Gods draw the lines to enforce them!”

“And what they won’t, I will,” Daine says. “First one of you to step forward gets an arrow somewhere unpleasant.”

“And my magic,” Dubukk says. 

_And my claws!_ Skysong adds.

“Besides, two Stormwings to one griffin’s a fair fight,” Zusha adds. “You like fairness, don’t you? Just look at their respective mass!”

Rikash approves of Zusha’s approach – griffins are all about keeping things fair and truthful. That might even keep them from interfering long enough for them to win this battle. He leaps up and kicks forward with both claws, scoring a nasty cut alongside the midsection he’d already hit before. 

Soareth’s tail lashes out, hitting him hard in the face, but griffin’s tails aren’t spiked, so it doesn’t do more than bruise.

_But you were fighting!_ Soareth exclaims. 

“Of course we were,” Serje scoffs. “I’ve despised him since the nest! That doesn’t mean we can’t work together!”

“You don’t need to tell truths or lies to make a plan when you’ve hated each other as long as we have,” Rikash agrees. He goes for the tail, then, while Soareth’s yowling from that, uses his back as a leverage point to get some height. “Serje!”

Serje blasts Soareth with a series of quick-paced fireballs.

Soareth dodges them – only to get hit full-on by Rikash, who’d gotten some height in the few moments Soareth had been distracted by Serje, and who now dived down, curling himself into a spinning ball of steel feathers.

Soareth shrieks in pain, rearing back instinctively.

Bad decision.

Serje goes for his throat.

Rikash goes for his belly.

Both of them enhance their strikes with flame magic. 

The fight is over pretty quickly after that.

_Well, that settles that_ , one of the other griffins says. It’s an older female, feathers having gone white. She shakes her head. _I assume you’re going to claim that his execution was justified because he worked for Uusoae?_

“No,” Serje says, panting. “His execution was justified because we challenged him and we won.”

“Also, he worked for Uusoae and was yanking your kind around,” Rikash agrees, also panting. That was hard. “Will you mind if we leave?”

_You cannot leave,_ she says.

They look at her, stricken.

_Until you select who will be nest-leader in his place,_ she amends. _Then you can leave._

Serje and Rikash blink at each other. “Why is that up to _us_?” Rikash asks.

_You defeated him._

“That’s no basis for a system of government,” Serje says. “At least for Stormwings you have to be a sworn member of one of the nations before you get to invoke challenges for political position; this is ridiculous –”

Rikash hits him with his wing to shut him up. “Can we let you decide?” he asks hopefully.

_No._

Okay, never mind, Rikash agrees with Serje; this is dumb.

“How about Owl-ears over there?” he says, nodding at the first griffin they met, who looks horrified by the thought. “Don’t worry, kid, you get used to it. Or you die. One of the two.”

The white griffin is laughing under her breath. Rikash is sure of it.

_An acceptable choice_ , she says, in tones of satisfaction that suggest –

Hey.

“You totally set this up, didn’t you?” Rikash accuses. “This way, you get your chosen successor without actually starting a fight yourself, since he’s the only one we can plausibly pick if the rest of you are all nest-leaders already.”

The white griffin smiles. _You can go now._

“Sneaky,” Rikash says approvingly. But he’s also not going to look a gift griffin in the mouth, so he takes wing at once. Everyone else does, except for Daine who bobs an awkward curtsey and walks quickly out of the clearing.

Rikash glides down to hover right above her head. “You’re going to need to shift to something with wings if you want to make it to the Abattoir,” he advises her. 

“I will,” Daine says. “Just – not in front of the griffins.”

Weird, but sure.

Then she smiles up at him. “That was very impressive, you know.”

Rikash flushes. “What, the fighting? Not my best work.”

“No, no – the teamwork. I didn’t realize you and Serje knew each other so well.”

“Rivals since the nest,” Rikash reminds her. “Just because we don’t like each other doesn’t mean we don’t _know_ each other.”

“Sometimes a good enemy is as close as a good friend,” she says, clearly quoting someone. 

“Something someone told you?”

She smiles ruefully. “Numair. He had a few of those. I never did – I just want my enemies to go away.”

Right on the conversational land mine. Good job, Rikash. 

“No, it’s okay,” she says, reading his expression. “I think he would’ve liked you. I certainly do.”

Rikash has no idea what to do with that.

“Just promise me you won’t shoot any Stormwings in my nation,” he says hastily. “They’re all my responsibility, you know.”

Daine grins. “I promise not to shoot anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Rikash is surprised into a bark of laughter. “How about a compromise?” he suggests. “Don’t shoot anyone who doesn’t deserve it, or Serje, either.”

The flight to the Abattoir is, compared to everything else they’ve encountered, pleasant and uncomplicated. They rest for an evening and head out in the morning, which is bright and clear and untroubled, and their path is a gentle glide down from the mountains to where the river runs into a marsh on the edge of the Sea of Sand, visible from here.

Of course, the footpaths beneath them are so treacherous as to be virtually impassable, but that is to a certain degree part of the area’s appeal, as no one wants grounders of any variety to get anywhere near their precious eggs. And what do they care? They have wings, and magic when their wings fail. 

_It’s getting pretty hard to fly_ , Daine observes. She’s taken the golden eagle form she prefers for long-distance soaring, while Dubukk takes his turn playing packmule with her supplies. _It’s so hot that I keep going up even when I don’t want to._

“It’ll only get worse as we get closer,” Zusha tells her. “The Abattoir abuts the Sea of Sand; it’s boiling hot.”

“Just the way we like it,” Serje interjects. “And everyone else doesn’t.”

“You need wings of steel to enjoy these thermals,” Rikash agrees. “Your eagle should be pretty well adapted, but you could always try a condor or some other form of buzzard if you get too hot.”

“A lammergeier would fit pretty well,” Dubukk says. “They come visit sometimes.”

_I don’t think I even know what that is,_ Daine says ruefully. 

“A bone-eating bearded vulture.”

_That does seem like it would fit pretty well. I need to brush up on my desert birds…_

“Forget that,” Zusha says. “I claim the first bath when we get home.”

“There’s enough room for more than one,” Rikash objects. “I want a bath, too; it’s been days already.”

_I feel like I’m getting some sort of secret insider glimpse here_ , Daine comments to Skysong, riding as ever on Rikash’s shoulders. _Stormwings! Bathing!_

_I didn’t even know that was part of their vocabulary_ , Skysong agrees. 

“Keep sharpening that tongue of yours,” Zusha taunts cheerfully. “Maybe we’ll make a proper Stormwing out of you one day.”

_If I was going to go into any immortal form, I’d druther a dragon_ , Daine shoots back. 

“That’s just because you haven’t tried us out!”

_Yeah, because turning into an immortal is a one-way trip. No thanks!_

“Indecisive,” Zusha tsks. “Shame.”

Rikash laughs, and turns a barrel roll that has Skysong shrieking happily. 

_You’re all ridiculous_ , she says when she recovers. _Also, do that again!_

Rikash obliges. 

“Just over that ridge,” Serje tells Daine, looking enthusiastic. “Our nation isn’t far from the borders, thankfully.”

_And Mortal Fear? Jachull?_

“Not close to ours,” Dubukk admits. “But Queen Barzha will be able to point us in the right direction.”

_Planning on sticking with me, then?_

“Once we get approval from our Queen,” Rikash says. “Uusoae is a serious issue.”

“Forget Uusoae!” Zusha shouts as she crests the ridge and immediately plummets into a wild dive. “We’re home!”


	4. 3

Rikash has been away from the Abattoir less than a week, but it’s still a sight for sore eyes. 

Jagged cliffs everywhere, rock made of red sandstone and crystal growths and the blackened remains of lava dried out into shapes vaguely reminiscent of wailing humans, all interspersed with the rusted and broken parts of war brought back as souvenirs: a small forest of glaives and swords planted into the ground, the heat causing the blood caught on the blades seep out; smashed chariots and obliterated warships and a dozen breastplates and helmets stacked upon each other to create a small pyramid; leather bridles from warhorses and war elephants hung in pride of place while the torn up remains of the flags of the nations of mankind are used to clean them. 

The ground that winds around them is uneven marsh, boiling hot and red as blood: the sediment from the red sandstone cliffs mixing with the ever-winding river that makes its way through the Divine Realms, heated by the nearby presence of the ever-burning Sea of Sand, and interspersed with even hotter jets of bubbling geysers belching bursts of steaming sulfur and nitrogen into air. A few of the deepest pits have black flags flying beside them, warning of magma seeping through in slow-moving streams of lava – thrill-seekers already crowd around those parts, young Stormwings daring each other to dip a claw or two in the hottest parts – and the smell of volcanic ash carried away from there by the wind is bitter and refreshing.

Home sweet home. 

_It’s beautiful!_ Skysong exclaims.

Rikash twists his head to grin at her. “Isn’t it?” he says proudly. “Different from your green fields and beaches, but there’s nowhere else like it.”

_Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful_ , Daine says quietly. 

Then, of course, she flies through one of the geyser eruptions and starts coughing. 

_Oh, that’s foul!_ she cries out. 

The Stormwings laugh at her. 

“Numb your nose,” Dubukk advises. “Or don’t fly through the geysers! It’s not their fault that sulfur smells like rotten eggs.”

_Easy to say, hard to do! I’ll take any suggestions you have on that numbing…_

“Dolphins don’t have olfactory nerves?”

_They also don’t fly!_

Zusha rolls her eyes dismissively. “Rikash, you’re going to report to the Queen, right?” she asks, her minds clearly on other things. “You can handle that. _I’m_ going to go bathe!”

“Zusha, you should at least wait – nope, there she goes,” he sighs, watching enviously as she dives down into the red mud, wallowing around happily until it splatters all over her wings, giving her a nice new coat. 

It looks wonderful.

_You take mud-baths!_ Daine exclaims. _Of course! Oh, if I had hands I’d be smacking myself upside the head right about now!_

“Really? Why?” Rikash asks.

_Because it makes so much_ sense _! I knew you were born in volcanos, I knew you were always covered in filth and foul-smelling rot, but somehow it never occurred to me that you’d bathe in ash and mud. Like elephants!_

“Like just about every hot-dwelling species out there,” Serje points out, but he’s also eyeing the baths with a covetous eyes. “Rikash –”

“Oh, all right, you might as well go on, too,” Rikash sighs. “I’ll report to the Queen, and Dubukk can join you once he’s dropped off Daine’s things somewhere where they won’t get scorched. Just be sure to come back before we leave for the Dragonlands.”

Serje doesn’t even bother responding with an affirmative, just peels off in the direction of one of the magma pools. 

Rikash resists the urge to stick out his tongue at Serje’s tailwind, but only because Daine is watching.

_Where is your nation?_ Daine asks, looking around. 

“The Stone Tree nation usually nests in the stone trees,” Dubukk says, somehow managing not to sound insulting.

“Over there,” Rikash says, nodding his head at the gigantic diamond tree-like structures. “They’re a little slippery, so not everyone likes them, but we do.”

_Your ‘stone’ trees are made of diamond,_ Skysong observes. 

_They are?_ Daine asks.

“Raw diamond,” Rikash confirms. “You can see the shiny parts where our claws have cut it –”

“Rikash!”

Queen Barzha comes flying over. Dark hair, dark eyes, aquiline nose, broad wings, sharp and elegant claws – Rikash’s Queen is a beauty still, though her features have shifted more towards imperious majesty with age. In his admittedly biased opinion, Queen Barzha is one of the best examples of Stormwing kind.

He hopes Daine appreciates that.

He also hopes that Daine doesn’t try to kill anyone. 

Bringing a Stormwing Killer to the Abattoir, even if they’re on a joint mission…

“Queen Barzha, just who I was looking for,” Rikash says. Don’t get him wrong, he really is happy to see her, but he’s also certain that he’s about to get yelled at. “I apologize for my overly long absence –”

“Forget that,” she says, gesturing for him to follow as she lands on one of the broader and more stable perches. “It wasn’t your fault the Great Gods closed the Ley without any warning – everyone else got back fine, thanks to your efforts. Half of them thought you were dead, in fact…also, did you get skinnier somehow? How? It’s been less than a week; have you not eaten?”

“I’ve been eating fine!” Rikash says, flushing. Why does she have to embarrass him like this? “I’ve been eating better than usual, in fact, ambient fear or godly –” Or Daine’s, but what can you do; she’s a mortal and she’s been afraid in his presence (though not usually of him), and, well, it’s there. He’s not going to _not_ feed on her fear, that would be silly. “Actually, speaking of which, can I introduce you to someone? This is –”

“Veralidaine Sarrasri, the Stormwing Killer, yes,” Queen Barzha says briskly. “I’ve heard all about the little campaign of elimination that she’s roped the rest of you into.”

_You have?_ Daine asks warily, settling down on the perch not far away. Dubukk drops her bags off next to her and beats a hasty retreat, which Rikash can’t blame him for. _How?_

“Everyone has, at this point,” Queen Barzha says dryly. “A hurrok, a spidren, and a griffin – not a bad list of kills, and the gossip moves faster than the wind. I think your campaign has done more to raise awareness of Uusoae’s growing influence in the Divine Realms than all the Great Gods’ announcements and warnings and dire portents.”

“No one listens to those anyway,” Hebakh, Queen Barzha’s mate says, landing on a nearby branch. He’s a skinny, nervous Stormwing, not particularly impressive on first meeting, but he’s wise and well-learned and devoted to Barzha; Rikash hopes Daine will see that. “There’s half a dozen dire portents every year; we’ve all learned to tune them out. Assassinations, though? That’s new.”

“Hebakh is Queen Barzha’s consort,” Rikash hisses to Daine, who was looking at him suspiciously.

_I see_ , Daine says. _Speaking of, er, our ‘little campaign’, is that something your Majesties see as, ah, a problem that would need –_

_Do you mind it?_ Skysong interrupts. _Us killing them and everything?_

Clearly she’s picked up a preference for Dubukk-style bluntness.

“I assume there’s a Stormwing on your little list?” Queen Barzha asks.

“Uh, yes, there is, just one,” Rikash says. “But it’s Jachull, so we didn’t think you’d mind.”

That gets a snort. “You’re right,” she says. “I don’t. Uusoae’s gambit has gone on for far too long, in my mind; she’s clearly planning something a little more elaborate than the norm, and I don’t like that. Uusoae’s plans haven’t changed in centuries, why are they changing now? Not good. You did the right thing helping Sarrasri, Rikash.”

Rikash’s shoulders slump with relief. He’d _thought_ so, but it’s always hard to guess. He’s been a Lord for such a short span of time…

“The Sokormuims spidrens know my name,” he says, since he’s going to have to bring that up eventually. Better now, while Queen Barzha seems inclined to forgive him. “They’re probably angry at the Stone Tree nation.”

“Let them be,” Queen Barzha says bluntly. “If you’re successful in getting rid of Queen Jachull, the balance of power in the Murder will shift significantly in my favor, and they won’t dare start anything.”

_The murder? What murder?_ Daine asks. She can fit a lot of skepticism into a golden eagle’s face.

“Not a murder, _the_ Murder. The collective governing body of the Stormwings, when all the nation heads meet to discuss the laws,” Rikash explains. “It’s not used that often – pretty much akin to a Dragonmeet, if you’re familiar with those –”

_Why is it called a Murder?_ Skysong wants to know. _Do you murder people at it?_

“Ironically enough, killing is forbidding during a Murder,” Hebakh comments. He’s one of the foremost memory-keepers for the nation, so he’d be the one to know. “The original myth claims that Stormwings were taught to form a government by crows, so naturally whenever a collection of Stormwings form an inter-nation meeting place…”

_It gets called a Murder. I get it!_

“This is Skysong,” Rikash explains, probably unnecessarily. “Daine is her guardian.”

“‘Daine’?” Queen Barzha asks, eyebrows going up.

“She prefers it!” Rikash squeaks. He has no idea why he’s being defensive about this.

“I see,” Queen Barzha says, though her tone suggests that she’s seeing something more than just a nickname preference. Rikash isn’t sure what, but he finds it very embarrassing nonetheless. 

_I'm pleased that my mission meets with your approval,_ Daine says, her voice sounding oddly ironic. It's almost as though she understood what Queen Barzha was so eloquently not saying, except _Rikash_ doesn't understand it, so how can Daine? _Rikash and the others have been extremely helpful. I would never have gotten this far without them._

"I'd never heard that you were good at discerning talent," Queen Barzha remarks. "Particularly when immortals less savory to human sensibilities were concerned. I'm glad the stories were incorrect."

_If there's one thing I've learned since coming to the Divine Realms, it's that I've still got a lot to learn_ , Daine says. _Assuming I can find somewhere cool enough to stay as a human, will you let me stay and rest here, to recover before we continue?_

"No," Queen Barzha says.

Rikash squawks a protest, all his feathers going on end, but she silences him with a curt wave of her wing. 

"The mage, Numair, will not be able to come here, not with Coldfangs," Queen Barzha says. "But he has a token that will show him where you are – and unlike a dragon, I can’t shield you from him."

_A token - oh, blast it all! He told me he destroyed that wretched thing once we weren't courting anymore! I'll strangle him!_

"Probably wise, given his current status as the involuntary champion of Uusoae," Queen Barzha says dryly. "Though I usually prefer stabbing, myself. I suppose it comes with the claws."

Daine snorts. _One does what one's born to do, I suppose_ , she says. _I'm sorry; I didn't realize. You're right. Staying here will only endanger your people - Numair has many spells that he can use against Stormwings._

"No," Hebakh says. "Really? You don't say."

Rikash is seriously considering hitting his head against a nearby branch. 

_I'll be on my way soon enough_ , Daine promises. _Could you tell me where can I find Queen Jachull of the Mortal Fear nation?_

"I can, and I will," Queen Barzha says. "But it won't help you right now. She's not here."

_She's not?!_ Skysong exclaims, aghast.

"No. She's in the Mortal Realms, with the main force of her nation; they are leading raids." Queen Barzha sneers. "Acting as the shock troops in human wars! It's a disgrace. Stormwings are meant to be the enemies of all those of mankind who are inclined to war - not to incite wars ourselves with a view to feeding our bellies."

_Doesn't your purpose have an end, then?_ Daine asks. _If you don't mind me asking, surely if you're successful in scaring people off war, you won't have any food?_

"The chance of another drought of peace among the humans is unlikely enough," Queen Barzha says. "Such a peace remaining intact for very long, even more so. But even if it were not the case, we are immortals: creatures born of dreams. We are meant to be as we are."

"One of our oldest myths say that the first Stormwing Queen went to the traveler who had first dreamed the Stormwings and demanded an answer to that very question," Hebakh says, idly scratching at the tree beneath his claws. "'To what end have you made me?' she demanded. 'For my purpose is finite, though my life goes on forever.' And that traveler, long ago, the traveler who became so sick of war that her dreams came alive to ruin the glories of battle, realized that in her care for humankind she had doomed another race; in penance, she returned to her sleep, this time forever, and dreamt that when all swords had been hammered into plowshares and steel used only for creation, not destruction, the Stormwings, too, would lose the steel of their wings and become creatures of pure crystal, to feed off joy instead of strife."

Everyone stares at Hebakh, who shrugs. 

"All rot, of course," he says briskly. "There's been peace before and I've never seen a single crystal Stormwing. I figure that either Father Universe or Mother Flame will consume us all long before then."

_Based on what I’ve seen, I’d put my wager on that one_ , Daine sighs. _Right. So Queen Jachull's in the Mortal Realms, causing trouble with all her Stormwings. That's not good._

"Still less good is her ally," Queen Barzha says. "Gaoha is in the Mortal Realms as well."

_You know him?_ Skysong asks. _Is he really an ogre?_

"He is. An ogre of particular intellect, moreover; he's said to be a brilliant strategist. He's gathered up many immortals to move against Tortall in the hope of luring you back there before you complete your task."

Daine flinches, eagle head ducking down in pain before coming back up. _Two of them there_ , she says, grimly practical. _So I'll have to go back soon anyway, just to get them. But war or no war in Tortall, I need to get the ones here first. Mirrorglass is still probably in the Dragonlands, so we have to go there before we can go back. And we still need to find who or what Llyneth is._

Queen Barzha nods, looking somewhat approving. "The dragons will be able to help you find whoever you wish," she says. "Provided you get them on your side."

_That's a pretty big 'provided'...Queen Barzha, your people have helped me more than I thought possible_ , Daine adds suddenly. _I would understand if you did not want them to risk themselves further._

Wait. She's not suggesting -

_I'm Kitten's guardian,_ Daine continues. _I know several dragons - Diamondflame, Wingstar - and they will help me gain passage to the Dragonlands. I don't want to put your people in any more danger –_

"You can't ditch us _now_!" Rikash exclaims. "You know Skysong's family, yes, but that's just one clan of dragons. You'll need all the help you can get if you want any hope of stopping their alliance with Uusoae - no dragon can interfere in another's business, that's the dragon way."

"He's right," Queen Barzha says. "Out of all of my nation, I could spare Rikash the least, but he will be invaluable to you if you seek to succeed in your quest - and I do want you to succeed."

Daine bows, her eagle wings spread out. _I appreciate your generosity._

"I have not yet begun to be generous," Queen Barzha says with a faint smirk. "I will gather my nation, and all others who disapprove of any alliance with Uusoae - or just of Queen Jachull herself - and we will go to the Mortal Realms to fight against those Stormwings who have betrayed what it means to be one of us."

It's not easy to read emotions on an eagle's face, but even so Rikash can see that Daine is absolutely flabbergasted by Queen Barzha's pronouncement.

_You'd do that?_ she asks. _Really? You'd fight for Tortall?_

"Not for Tortall," Queen Barzha corrects. "We will coordinate with them, yes, but only until Queen Jachull and the forces of Uusoae have been defeated. We will not take sides in human war any longer than we must, and we will not discriminate among the fallen bodies that we play with after the battle ends."

_I understand_ , Daine says, sounding more respectful than Rikash has ever heard her. _You'll do what you think is right. Still, on behalf of Tortall, I'm grateful to you regardless._

Queen Barzha inclines her head. "It will take us three days to reach the Mortal Realms," she says. "Meet us there, if you can. We will try to kill Queen Jachull and Gaoha if possible, but we may require more aid - especially if your Numair is helping their side."

Daine nods. _That makes sense. If they really are consolidating their forces to attack Tortall to try to smoke me out, Numair'll leave off chasing me here and go there - and that's what I've been trying to avoid._

"Maybe destroy that rock now, then?" Rikash suggests. "The chaos-rock you stole."

_I can't,_ she says. _It's not just strategy - I can't destroy it until all of Uusoae's champions are defeated, or else she’ll just make a new one._

Thus the assassinations. Rikash gets it.

"Well, I'm certainly going to continue helping," he says, bowing a little to his wonderful Queen. "But I would like a bath before we head to the Dragonlands, if possible."

"Oh, yes, go," Queen Barzha says. "Take the dragon kit with you; our pools are nowhere near hot enough to pierce dragon scale. I welcome a chance to speak privately with Sarrasri here."

_Daine_..? Skysong asks.

_If you want to, go_ , Daine says. _Don't worry, I think I know what this is about._

Skysong nods and settles back onto Rikash's shoulders and back, which he takes as agreement.

"Very well, then," he says. "We'll be ready to go in - two hours?"

"Make it four," Queen Barzha says. "Be sure to eat something before you go."

Rikash flies off before she can add any other helpful advice.

_You really think I'll like your mud?_ Skysong asks skeptically.

"Skysong," Rikash says solemnly. "It's time you learned how to have a good, long wallow."

To Rikash's utter lack of surprise, after she gets over her initial human-inspired hesitation, Skysong loves wallowing. She laughs and plays, turning head over tail in the warm mud and even joining a game of skipping-stones on the magma trails. 

Rikash gets himself several new layers of mud before settling in for a nice, long soak near a geyser, though he does keep mindful of his Queen's command and makes sure to fill his belly - with the ambient human fear and strife that seeps through the barrier, and also the plants and animals that live in the marsh. He technically doesn't need the latter, but as Zusha pointed out, they still can eat it, and it's not a bad idea to fill himself with extra energy.

Skysong even agrees to sample some, reluctance now entirely gone, and turns out to be particularly enthusiastic over a type of chicory that grows only near geysers.

_What does fear taste like?_ she asks, mouth still full of chicory and chickweed. _Does it have a flavor?_

"Oh, certainly!" one of the other Stormwings exclaims. "There are all sorts of flavor - the terror of someone seeing battle for the first time, the regret-tinged fear of someone considering all they've lost, the mind-blinding panic of the dying -"

"Not to mention the effect of age," another adds. "A grizzled old veteran tastes different from a youngling drafted to bear arms - or a civilian -"

"Personality is more important to that than age -"

"They're separate factors! You can have experienced younglings and old draftees -"

"Great," Rikash says dryly to a fascinated Skysong. "You've gotten them on their favorite argument. Now they're never going to stop."

Skysong doesn't seem to mind, snout swiveling from one Stormwing to another as they bicker and quip and taunt each other, in typical Stormwing fashion. 

Rikash uses the opportunity to sink deeper into the mud and take a nice warm nap.

As a result, he's bright-eyed and cheerful when he returns to the meeting place with Skysong at the right time.

Zusha, Serje, and Dubukk are all waiting there, too.

"Queen Barzha did tell you that you don't have to come any further, right?" Rikash asks them.

"What, and let you have all the fun?" Zusha sniffs. "No chance."

"Besides, you'd be lost without us," Serje says.

"I would _not_ -"

"You're developing into a decent Lord," Dubukk says. "It'd be a shame to have to take our chances on a new one."

Rikash turns bright red, and Zusha and Serje both glare at Dubukk. 

"Stop ruining things by being sincere all the time," Zusha grumbles.

"Sorry," Dubukk says, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

"From what I hear, you make a surprisingly good team," Queen Barzha comments, landing near them. 

Daine, currently in the form of a fennec fox, hops off her shoulder, looking vaguely punch-drunk.

_Are you okay?_ Skysong asks her in a murmur. 

_Totally fine_ , Daine assures her. _Queen Barzha's very impressive - and scary, when she cares to be._

Daine sounds _very_ respectful. She also keeps glancing at Rikash out of the corner of her eye when she thinks he won't notice, a sort of contemplative expression on her face.

Rikash is desperately curious to know what Queen Barzha said to her, but if they waited until he was gone to have the discussion, it's probably not any of his business.

If only he were a cat! Then he could stick his nose in and claim he was just following his nature...

"You should go now," Queen Barzha says. "Numair will not be able to track you within the Dragonlands.”

_Right_ , Daine says. _We should get going._

Queen Barzha nods, then looks at them solemnly. “Rikash, you know your duty. The rest of you - remember, above all else, that you are Stormwings. Care for your Lord and delight in the furies of battle, and do not give Uusoae an inch of your hide to seize upon."

"And you, Sarrasri, remember to be careful with that feather," Hebakh says.

Rikash isn't sure what he means until Daine shifts forms, abandoning the temperature-friendly fox in favor of her preferred golden eagle, and as she shifts through her human form he sees that around her neck there is a Stormwing feather hanging right beside her badger claw.

_I will_ , she says. _I'll keep what you told me in mind._

"Enough chattering," Serje says. "Can we go already?"

Queen Barzha looks at him.

"...enough chattering _please_ , can we go already, with your Majesties' permission?"

She sighs. "Hebakh, if I ever decide to send Serje Bloodrage on a diplomatic mission, you may assume that I am overcome by the influence of Chaos and depose me."

"Yes, dear," Hebakh says mildly. "Now let him go off and assassinate people."

Queen Barzha smirks, then waves a wing.

As one, they all leap into the air, with Rikash taking the lead, and fly towards the Dragonlands.

_She seems nice_ , Skysong remarks.

"She's great," Rikash says. "Nice, though, might not be the word I'd use."

Daine snorts and flies over. _Kitten, you've really got to stop categorizing everyone you like as 'nice' - ugh, also, you smell._

_Well, yes, but I got as high as five feet on top of one of the geysers!_

_Five feet..?_

"When you're small, you can use the geysers to get a boost into the air," Rikash says. "It's like flying. And you get used to the smell."

_I suppose so. Maybe I'll follow Dubukk's suggestion about a dolphin nose after all..._

"The nose knows," Dubukk says solemnly.

"No one knows what the nose knows," Zusha replies. "Because it's nose-body's business!"

The rest of the flight to the Dragonlands continues in much of a similar vein, since everyone is in a much better mood. It's amazing how much having a bath, official backing, and an army helps.

Despite her protests about the smell, Daine even continues flying next to Rikash.

"You met dragons before, then, Daine?" he asks as the terrain starts to change to the familiar shapes (and occasional burned craters) that signify the border with the Dragonlands.

_Skysong's family_ , Daine confirms. _Not under the best circumstances, unfortunately. There was an incident where she got hurt in a Carthaki sneak attack and a few of the dragons - ones with grudges against humans - decided to hold a trial accusing me of being a neglectful guardian._

"That's ridiculous. Anyone who took a moment to look at you would realize you had her best interests at heart."

_That's what_ I _said_ , Skysong interjects.

_Yes, well, apparently underage dragons can't testify in their own defense - or anyone else's. Either way, they kidnapped us, but we ended up winning the trial - this was me, Kitten, and Numair at the time - and Diamondflame and Wingstar took us home. They helped us win a battle against the Yamani navy before they returned._

"Helpful."

_Unfortunately, that's all they were willing to do,_ Daine says regretfully. _I can't blame them - it's not their war - and yet..._

"Well, if they were willing to help once, maybe they'll help again," Rikash says. "A few dragon mages backing up Queen Barzha would certainly make me feel more optimistic."

_Good point. Can't hurt to ask, I guess - is that the Sea of Sand we're flying by?_

"It is. Just be happy we're not flying _over_ it, which we would've had to if you'd gone the other direction from Temptation Lake. It's a shorter path to the Dragonlands, but a pain in the tailfeathers even if you don't mind the glare of reflected sunlight off all the steel feathers..."

_I'm glad we took the long way, then,_ Daine says. _I just hope we can figure out a way to stop Mirrorglass. You're not wrong about dragons respecting each other's activities to an unhealthy degree - if we can't convince the Dragonmeet to ban contracting with Chaos, or talk Diamondflame into interfering, I don't know what we'll be able to do. We can't go up against a dragon mage._

"We could always ask them to stop," Rikash suggests.

"Seriously, Rikash?" Serje says, rolling his eyes. "Our time is clearly better spent thinking of ways to pierce dragon scale. Assassinating a dragon - I don't think anyone's done that before."

"No one's been stupid enough," Zusha says. "The dragons don't like each other, sure, but surely they wouldn't stand aside if one of them were killed. They'd declare war on all our species."

"They wouldn't," Rikash says. "War is tricky - it requires a supermajority, and that almost never happens. But the dragon's family would probably seek vengeance, yes."

"Same difference! We're still all dead at the end!"

_Stop grumbling, Serje_ , Daine says. _Look on the bright side - we haven't been killed yet._

"That's your idea of the bright side?!"

_Why not?_ Skysong asks. _Better than the alternative._

"I'm starting to regret throwing my lot in with you crazy people," he grumbles.

"No, you're not," Dubukk says calmly. "Also, I think we've arrived - assuming that firewall is the border."

"It is," Rikash says. "Don't worry about it; follow me."

He dives down, aiming at the flames.

_Do remember that I'm not immortal!_ Daine calls.

"Do remember that all of us are still capable of dying!" Zusha shouts.

"Just follow me! Keep close!"

The second Rikash gets within a foot of the flames - close enough to feel the heat searing his face - they vanish.

He cuts his dive short and hovers there. "Go!" 

The rest of the team hastily cross the barrier.

The second Rikash follows them, the firewall goes back up.

_Well, that's not much of a defense_ , Skysong says.

"Actually, it burns unwelcome outsiders or anyone who doesn't have a standing invitation," Rikash tells her. "But if you do have one, you can trick the system to get other people in."

_That seems like a serious security flaw_ , Daine comments.

"It is. I've pointed it out several times. But they'd have to agree to work together to fix it, which they can never agree on a convenient time to do, so - they don't."

"Wow," Serje says. "That's dumb as rocks."

"Serje," Dubukk says. "Consider not insulting our hosts where they can hear them. They're very large and they breathe fire."

"...right."

Rikash rolls his eyes. "He's not wrong,” he says loudly. “It is dumb as rocks. Probably how Uusoae got in here to convince a dragon to do something in the first place. Really, stupidity all around." 

A very large dragon whose approach Rikash has been purposefully ignoring finally lands right behind him.

She's pale, with scales of shining pearl and flickers of heat lighting crackling across her sixty-foot frame. One of her clawed paws is as large across as Rikash is, and she puts it down right next to him as if to demonstrate how easily she could crush him - even assuming she would bother to do it physically, rather than simply vanish him into a glacier with her magic.

Again.

_You_ , she says, her mental voice harsh and loud, _are the most impossible, ungrateful, insolent pest of a Stormwing I have ever had the misfortune to encounter._

Daine flares her wings up in threat pose at that, but Rikash just grins up at the dragon. "Yes, well," he says. "I learned from the example of my elders. Isn't that right, Moonwind?"

She rolls her eyes, hard. _I ought to stick you in that glacier again until you learn some manners._

Rikash bats his eyelashes at her. "Surely a paragon of dignity and respectability amongst dragons like yourself would never do such a thing."

_Maybe I should just chew you up and turn you into fertilizer. I hear sulfur is good for plants._

"I'd be happy to make any contribution I could to your happiness, Moonwind, you know that."

_Pest_ , she repeats, and swats at him, slow and lazy and easily dodged.

Skysong's claws dig into Rikash's shoulder, reminding him that there's a dragon kitten on his back who might not be enjoying this as much as him.

"Don't fret," he tells her. "If she really meant me any harm, she wouldn't have let me duck that. Moonwind, have you met Skysong?"

"Yes," Daine says, having turned human and gone for her bow again. Her voice is icy. "She has. She was one of the ones advocated against my guardianship of Skysong."

"Of course she did," Rikash sighs. "Aunt Moonwind, _really_."

Aunt _Moonwind_? Skysong yelps, even as Daine's eyebrows shoot up.

Moonwind snorts. _I had the misfortune of fostering this brat in my nest for several decades. As you would have known if you'd been raised by a proper dragon, rather than by a human._

"You need to stop contravening Summerwing's will," Rikash tells her, not without affection. "Your grief does not outweigh his sympathy, not even after his death. He liked humans enough to preemptively forgive them for his murder; that's why you didn't take action against them when you could, and fighting a rearguard action now against any human you see is just bitter grapes. Please remember that if you kill all the humans, you'll have a nest full of sad-eyed starving Stormwings throwing themselves on your mercy."

_Finally, someone offers me a valid reason to spare the species,_ Moonwind sniffs. _They certainly aren't getting there on their own merit._

"Please ignore Moonwind," Rikash tells Daine, injecting as much irritating earnestness into his voice as possible. "All bark and no bite, really -"

"She personally destroyed a quarter of the tauros' population when their war spilled over into her nesting grounds," Zusha points out dryly.

"Ancient history."

"It happened less than three centuries ago, that’s still living memory, what are you talking about -"

Daine is looking confused and Serje is going to hurt himself if he rolls his eyes any harder, so Rikash decides to take pity on them.

"Remember how we had that discussion about my sentimental last name?" he asks Daine. "And how it was formed when my ancestors cared for a dragon in need, and were adopted into the family and given a dragon surname as a result?"

"Moonsword," Daine says, remembering. "Your last name's Moonsword - _Moonwind_ -"

_Skysong, it appears your human has developed the capacity for basic logic_ , Moonwind says. _Congratulations. She may be an adequate guardian come a few centuries, if she lives that long - oh, wait, they don't, do they?_

Skysong growls.

"But she's not a human," Dubukk says, frowning. "She's a godborn. Why would she die?"

"I think that's the point," Rikash, familiar with Moonwind's prickly sense of human, says dryly. "She won't. Moonwind’s just teasing."

_But she will, though_ , Skysong says. _That's why it's not funny._

Rikash frowns. "Wait. How's that?"

"The Great Gods made me pick between living a human life and being a lesser goddess," Daine says. "On my twenty-fifth birthday. I picked human, so -"

_That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,_ Moonwind says. _That's not how it works at all._

"...what?"

Moonwind scowls at her. _I don't approve of a being that was socialized as a human having the guardianship over one of our kitlings_ , she says. _Whereas Diamondflame doesn't mind it. But not a single one of us would have let you have_ any _guardianship rights if we thought you were going to abandon your duties after a mere hundred years. Godborn children live their first lives as humans and_ then _become gods or goddesses; that's how it works. Haven't you ever had a near-death experience? What happened then?_

"I - yes," Daine says, looking surprised. "Several times. I came to my ma's garden, here, and she sent me back."

_Of course you did_ , Moonwind says impatiently. _Like all godborn, you come to the Divine Realms when you die. If you want to go to the Black God's realm as anything more than a holiday trip, you'll have to make that request directly to Father Universe and Mother Flame. The Great Gods can't just wave their hands and make you human by fiat - that would be destroying the fundamental basis of who you are. The most they can do is impede your ability to cross between the realms during your mortal lifetime, which is probably all they did._

"But they said -"

_The Great Gods mean well, most of the time, but godborn aren't theirs to legislate over any more than dragons are_ , Moonwind says firmly. _Not unless you let them, anyway. Just because you're too chaotic to be comfortable for them doesn't mean you have to do everything they say. Show some spine!_

"No one ever explains these things to me," Daine growls. "I'll be having words with people - plenty of words -"

"Moonwind's old enough to know some of the ancient rules," Rikash says. "Not to mention old enough to go on and on about them -"

Moonwind's crest, which had started to arch in rage, flattens as she gets distracted, just as he intended. It's not good for a dragon of her age to get her blood up as often as she does. _Why do I put up with you again?_ she asks him. 

"Because I'm adorable," Rikash informs her archly. "Now, will you welcome my friends as your guests so that I don't have to challenge every dragon in the Dragonlands to a duel?"

_Oh, all right,_ she says. _You're all my guests, and if anyone tries to bother you, tell them I'll bite them. Yes, even the godborn girl and Skysong; that ought to stick in Diamondflame's craw for a century or two. And godborn, remember that the Gods sometimes need a kick in the rear to do the right thing, and while I may not like you, I'm always willing to help there._

"I'll remember that," Daine says. "Thanks. I think."

"Could we maybe, just _maybe_ , get back to our mission?" Serje says. "I seem to remember a deadline of some sort that we were literally just informed of."

_I know several excellent gagging spells_ , Moonwind tells Rikash. _Which would you prefer I use?_

"As much as I appreciate the offer, he did volunteer to come along willingly," Rikash says, deeply regretful. "So maybe not any right now. Besides, he's right; we should get going."

Moonwind settles down on her belly to look at them more closely. _Yes, your little assassination quest. How are you planning on doing that here? You cannot kill a dragon, and even if you could I wouldn't let you._

"Uh," Daine says. "Well, we had some ideas..."

"We were planning on asking politely for him to stop," Rikash interrupts, because Daine did not, in fact, have any ideas. "If that doesn't work, we'll regroup."

Moonwind considers this for a moment. _Let's go get Diamondflame_ , she says. _And Rainbow, if he's willing to get off his ancient tail for you again. I think your polite request will go further with three of the most ancient dragons in the Dragonlands helping make it._

"Strategic thinking like that is why you're my favorite dragon," Rikash tells her.

_I've long suspected your entire family line is on a quest to get me to roll my eyes so hard they pop right out of my head_ , Moonwind tells him after having done very nearly that. _Is it true? You can tell me._

"He can neither confirm nor deny any Moonsword family secrets," Zusha says. "We've asked."

Moonwind snorts. _If you survive this little jaunt, Rikash, pass along my congratulations to your mother and grandfather. You honor their extreme annoyingness well._

"Next blood moon festival," Rikash promises. "I'll tell them you miss them and want them to come visit."

_Not even slightly what I said._

"I'm good at reading nuance like that."

_You're good at being a pest like that, you mean. I'll go fetch the others; you stay here. And eat something, will you? You look thin._

And with that she's gone before he can sputter out a denial.

The other Stormwings are sniggering at him.

"She's a lot friendlier around you," Daine says with a faint smile. "Or, well, not _friendlier_ , that implies some level of friendliness in the first place -"

"It's practically a cliché in the Dragonlands to point out that Moonwind is mean even to people she likes," Rikash says. "For some reason it never seems to occur to people to simply respond in kind."

_I can be mean_ , Skysong says. _I'm an honorary Stormwing now; I can definitely be mean._

"An honorary Stormwing?" Daine asks, arching her eyebrows.

"She displayed Stormwing-like skill in geyser hopping," Rikash explains, a touch embarrassed. "There was a vote by a quorum of a score of Stormwings...you know what, on second thought, I think I am hungry. Who wants food?"

"Subtle change of subject there, Rikash," Zusha sniggers. "Very subtle."

"I'm hungry, too," Dubukk says. "What is there?"

"There should be a cut in the barrier somewhere nearby so we can get a bit of the battles currently happening in the Copper Isles, Scanra and the eastern border of Tortall -"

"What's that about our eastern border?!"

"Don't worry, your side's winning," Zusha says dismissively. "We'd've told you if there was a real issue."

"People I know and love can die even if my side's winning," Daine replies. "In the future, let me know."

"- and for everyone else I can summon any type of food you like," Rikash continues, deciding not to get involved in that debate. "Skysong, there are several things you should try - young dragons are mad over them, and I'm sure you'll be as well."

_Oooh. Yes, please._

"She just ate," Daine complains, but she's already pulling out her own plates. "Well, come on - dragons might take forever to do anything, but Serje's right; we have a deadline."

The fault line in the barrier - an invisible line running about seven feet above the earth - is only a five minute flight or walk away, and they settle down to a more corporeal dinner while also enjoying the fear seeping through the barrier.

Zusha and Serje team up to entertain (or annoy) Daine with a play-by-play of the battle in their best game-announcer voices, while Rikash focuses on summoning new treats for Skysong with suggestions from Dubukk.

Daine eventually flees over to their side of the barrier, leaving Zusha and Serje to argue over whether a particular tactic made sense. 

"It's not that I don't appreciate the update, and the color commentary is frankly hilarious, but you were right; we’re winning that battle hands down," she says, settling down next to Skysong. "How're you liking the food, Kitten?"

Skysong lolls onto her back. _I'm so full, but I want more_ , she says. _Tell them to gimme more._

"You'll get a stomachache if you eat any more."

_Will not._

"I promise we'll find a way to get you some of this food at home, Kitten," Daine says, winking at Rikash. "Stop complaining and just enjoy it ."

Moonwind appears a few hours later, which is honestly better than Rikash was expecting. By that time, a few other dragon kits - calling themselves Scamp and Grizzle, even though their real names are Icefall and Steelsings, respectively - have wandered over, drawn by the smell of treats, and they are happily teaching Skysong some of their favorite games under Daine's indulgent supervision. 

_I'm pleased to see that Skysong is sharing her new experiences with her dragon kin_ , Diamondflame, who appears by Moonwind's side, says innocently. He's a massive eighty-foot dragon, colored largely in shades of blue; Rikash always forgets how much he resembles a pile of rocks until he sees him again. _How nice it is when diverse viewpoints are introduced -_

_You're not so big that I can't stick you upside-down into the lake_ , Moonwind tells him. _It's hardly isolationist or discriminatory to want kitlings to grow up connected to their culture._

_I'm fairly sure I agreed to come along under explicit promises that there wouldn't be any political debates in my presence,_ old Ancestor Rainbow grumbles. He's the oldest dragon yet living, with blind white eyes and appropriately rainbow-colored scales gone pale as though covered in dust. _You're both right, you're both wrong: now let's go talk with Mirrorglass. But not with the kittens._

Rikash glances over at Skysong and the other dragons. "Zusha, Serje, would you...?"

"We'll teach them some Stormwing games," Serje says. "In the interests of spreading culture and whatnot. You go ahead - Dubukk will keep you out of trouble."

"I will?" Dubukk says, surprised. "I thought one of the reasons you liked me is because I don't keep anyone out of trouble ."

"I like that when it's aimed at me," Serje sniffs. "And you're right, never mind, feel free to get Rikash into as much trouble as you like."

Rikash rolls his eyes. "Zusha?"

"We'll keep an eye on the kittens," she agrees. "Go on."

"This is going to be fun," Rikash tells Daine, who arches an eyebrow. "Just watch. Oh, and don't laugh until you're at least thirty feet away from his cavern."

"Okay," she says, her eyebrows arched. "I'll keep that in mind."

It's remarkably satisfying to see Mirrorglass’ shiny silver scales go grey when he sees who exactly is knocking at his door.

_I hear you're working with Uusoae_ , Rainbow says amiably, wandering in and settling down on Mirrorglass’ nest. _Oh, this is comfortable. You have excellent taste in bedding materials…that new, the Uusoae business?_

_Er_ , Mirrorglass says, looking now even more grey and a little queasy. _Somewhat new -_

_Interesting choice, that,_ Diamondflame says, parking himself near the library that every dragon has in their living area and using his claws, very delicately, to examine the books and scrolls. _Especially given that we all know how Uusoae's plans always end - with her eating each and every one of the Realms, including this one._

_Well -_

Moonwind, never subtle, walks over to the broad raised rock on which there are various bubbling chemicals in vats and suspended magical spells in hovering orbs and 'accidentally' swipes a bunch of them off the table with her tail as she turns around to face the room. _Oops_ , she says, utterly remorseless. _You know how difficult it is to keep track of one’s tail, when you’re as old as I am._

_Moonwind! I must protest! My experiments are my own business -_

_Oh, absolutely,_ Moonwind says. _There's no greater proponent for the rights of dragonkind to do as they like than us, isn't that right, Diamondflame?_

_To be sure_ , he agrees. _Your business is your own. No doubt about it._

Mirrorglass proves that he's not a total idiot by swinging his snout from one to the other suspiciously. _I see,_ he says. _I agree entirely. And?_

_So untrusting, these young ones_ , Diamondflame says, shaking his big blue head. He pulls out several books and flips through them, then puts them back in the wrong order. _We're agreeing with you!_

_You and Moonwind never agree on anything_ , Mirrorglass points out, which is fair.

_That's absurd_ , Moonwind says. She settles back on the desk, knocking a few more orbs into the ground. _Just because we haven't agreed in a few centuries is hardly grounds to say we_ never _agree. Uusoae's plans, for instance. We agree on those._

_Can't say we like them_ , Diamondflame agrees. _But as my dear Moonwind was just reminding me, we need to be more open-minded about things._

_Oh, certainly_ , Moonwind says dryly. _You know me: always willing to give other people's views a chance._

Diamondflame snorts flame at that, then coughs to cover it up. He also puts out the fire he accidentally started - the books and scrolls are all fire-proofed, of course, but the bookcase holding them apparently isn't - by knocking over the whole thing onto the floor with a loud clatter. _Anyway,_ he says before Mirrorglass can protest, _since obviously we can't stop you from doing it just because we don't like it - a dragon's business is his own, after all - we've decided that you must have a very good reason to work with Uusoae despite all warnings not to._

_And we're here to hear it_ , Moonwind says. _Don't worry! We've cleared our schedules - we can stay as long as we need to in order to_ really _understand why you're doing what you're doing. A few months - years - decades - centuries..._

Mirrorglass looks around his home - one bookcase in shambles as Diamondflame amiably goes over to a second one, his ongoing experiments crushed under Moonwind's claws, and Ancestor Rainbow already snoring loudly in his sleeping nest with no clear plans on moving any time soon - and very visibly gives up.

_I would love to help you on your quest for knowledge, honored ancestors,_ he says through gritted teeth. _But alas, I had just decided to stop doing any work with Uusoae for at least the next century._

_Three centuries_ , Rainbow suggests, waking up (as if that old faker was ever really asleep) with a snort.

_...the next three centuries,_ Mirrorglass agrees. All that fang-grinding is probably bad for him.

_Such a shame_ , Moonwind says with zero regret in her voice. _Well, guess there's no point in staying in your lovely home any longer._

_There really, really isn't,_ Mirrorglass agrees. This time he actually sounds sincere.

_Still, you've been very hospitable_ , Diamondflame says. He's better at faking politeness - or at least more inclined to bother doing so. _I really must insist on returning the favor. Why don't you come visit me in, say, a decade so that you can tell me all about whatever experiment you've chosen to run now that you've given up on Uusoae?_

_And me the decade after_ , Moonwind says. _If you get our meaning._

_Your meaning comes through loud and clear, honored ancestors_ , Mirrorglass says resentfully. He couldn’t have made it plainer that when he said ‘honored ancestors’ he meant ‘interfering busybodies’ if he’d tried. _Now could you_ please _leave my cavern, and take the smirking Stormwings and that godborn with you already?_

_Of course! You need only ask and we will be glad to help out_ , Diamondflame says. _You know that. We're very respectful like that._

Sadly, Moonwind ushers Rikash, Dubukk, and Daine out the door before Rikash can see Mirrorglass's reaction to that.

Daine manages to get exactly thirty-one feet away from the cavern entrance before she falls over laughing. "That was beautiful," she whoops. "Beautiful! Amazing!"

_Dragon persuasion at its finest_ , Moonwind says, sounding pleased with Daine's appreciation. She always did enjoy making mischief. Rikash hopes that she'll be a little less inclined against Daine going forward. _Diamondflame will stay behind to 'help' Ancestor Rainbow get up, but neither of them will leave until they see Mirrorglass break his contract with Uusoae._

“That’s wonderful,” Daine says. “Just – wonderful.”

Moonwind sniffs. _Just don't tell Skysong too much about it_ , she says. _We elders need to keep our tricks or the next generation will walk all over us._

"Zusha and Serje will murder me if I don’t tell them everything I saw in painfully precise detail," Dubukk murmurs to Rikash apologetically. "No way around it."

"Don't tell Skysong and we'll be fine,” Rikash murmurs back. 

"I'll keep the description short," Daine promises Moonwind. "I don't want her getting any ideas about solving her own problems by irritating them away."

"I told you I learned from the best," Rikash jokes, nudging Moonwing with his wing.

_Hmmphf. You did, at that. Where are you off to next?_

"Well, we need to hit Queen Jachull, Gaoha and Llyneth," Daine says. "Queen Barzha says that Jachull and Gaoha are in the Mortal Realms..."

_They are_ , Moonwind says. _But Llyneth is still in the Divine Realms, helping pass along arms to their army. I don't know how she's transporting those weapons through the barrier, but if you stop her, you'll cripple their efforts._

"Any chance you want to come along for the fighting?" Rikash asks.

_I'll consider it_ , Moonwind says. _I don't discriminate much between humans, but I don't like the idea of Uusoae-inspired weapons sitting around the Mortal Realms. That causes nothing but trouble. We don't want any would-be dragon-slayers once the barrier goes down._

"About that," Daine says. "There's something I should mention..."

_Skysong! Steelsings! Icefall! What are you_ doing, _you rock-headed lumps?_ Moonwind shouts.

_Er_ , Scamp says. _Jousting? On Stormwings?_

_You are doing no such thing. Get off of there this instant._

_Fiiiiiine..._

_You lot had better get out of here before you corrupt the youth any further_ , Moonwind says. _I can send you to the shores of the Encircling Ocean; Llyneth can be found in the City Beneath the Waves -_

"What _is_ Llyneth? I don't think we ever found out," Serje says. 

_An undine_ , Moonwind says. _Go to the City Beneath The Waves and ask around; someone will direct you to where you can find her. I or one of my kin will likely join you in your battle against the remaining forces of Uusoae. Now go!_

"Wait -" Daine starts, but it's too late.

Dragon magic sweeps them all up and deposits them on a beach in a single action that feels not unlike being squeezed through an opening that's two sizes too small. 

They all stumble forward. The Stormwings catch themselves by flaring their wings out, but Daine and Skysong fall flat on their faces and start spitting out sand.

"That was abrupt," Zusha says. 

"She's always like that," Rikash says, suppressing a sigh. "Hates goodbyes of any sort, but especially if there's any risk of someone thanking her. I fostered with her nearly a decade and she sent me away in my sleep."

"I wasn't going to thank her," Daine growls, getting up and brushing sand off her face. "As it happens. Kitten, you all right?"

_Fine. Yuck. Also, are we going underwater?_

"The City Beneath The Waves isn't called that because it's under a cliff or a mountain, that's for sure," Serje says. "Yes, of course we're going underwater. Where else would we find an undine?"

"A forest," Dubukk says promptly. "Undine aren't just water nymphs; they're specifically the nymphs found in forest pools, glades, and rivers. You wouldn't expect them to be in the City Beneath The Waves at all - that's salt water, not fresh."

Rikash hadn't known that. Judging by everyone else's expressions, neither had they. 

"That's interesting, I guess," he says, bemused. "Is it - relevant?"

"Probably not," Dubukk admits. "Just because it's not where they normally reside doesn't mean they can't travel there, same as any other immortal."

"Well, with any luck, that means the undine will stick out like a bent pointfeather," Zusha says. "Either way, we should go."

" _Now_ you're in a rush?" Serje asks, rolling his eyes.

"Given that we've just left the magical protection of the Dragonlands, meaning that Numair and his coldfangs are undoubtedly on his way here now?" Daine says grimly. "Yes. We're in a rush." 

"Good point," Rikash says, wincing. "And we have that deadline. Okay, who's strong enough for a full bubble?"

"I am," Dubukk says. "Serje isn't."

"I'm not, either," Zusha admits.

"Bubble?" Daine asks. 

"Stormwings aren't exactly built for water, though we can handle it," Rikash says. "But we do need air. We can create bubbles of air to carry us through the water with our magic."

"But not everyone can do a bubble to encompass all of them," Zusha says, making a face. "I can cover my head -"

"I can do head and shoulders," Serje says. "Dubukk can do a full bubble, all the way around."

"I can do one as well," Rikash says, proud of the skill even though it's actually a fairly recent development. Well, he can do one when flying through water, anyway; it’s easier than flying through the upper atmosphere. "Skysong, you can ride with me, and Dubukk can take Daine's bags - Daine, do you want to ride with Dubukk?"

"No, I'll go myself," Daine says. "I've got a decent dolphin, and I can use one of your bubbles to refill my lungs. Shouldn't I carry the chaos stone, though, in case we get separated?"

"Put it around your neck?" Zusha suggests, which reminds Rikash that he hasn't asked about the Stormwing feather Queen Barzha gave Daine. Or, for that matter, what it was she was hoping to tell Moonwind.

Before he can ask anything, though, Serje barks, "Don't be stupid; do you _want_ her to have chaos influence? Just give it to Dubukk like you have the last few times and focus on not getting separated."

With that, he casts a crimson bubble around his head and shoulders and jumps into the waves, splashing the rest of them with the movements of his wings.

Dubukk shrugs. "You did say we were in a rush," he says apologetically.

"I did," Daine sighs, getting undressed and shoving her clothing into a pack. "Go for it. I'll see you in the water."

With that, she dives into the waves, shifting smoothly into her dolphin form as she went.

It's really quite beautiful to watch.

Zusha's wing smacks into Rikash's side. "Stop mooning," she says. "It's embarrassing."

Rikash was _not_ mooning! 

"Go jump in an ocean," he tells her. "Skysong, you're with me."

Skysong is giggling.

For Rikash's own dignity, he decides not to ask what about.


	5. 5

Once Skysong's in her usual place, he casts a bubble of magic all around him and goes into the water. The advantage of the full bubble is that he can flying as if in the air, rather than forcing his wings through water the way that Serje and Zusha have to.

Of course, as they very quickly discover, that difference also leads to different speeds, which is inconvenient for traveling as a group.

They end up agreeing for Dubukk to magically lasso Serje and drag him along in his wake until they get to the City Beneath, and for Rikash to do the same with Zusha, but the additional magic strain means that the conversation until they reach their destination is more or less totally dead.

Well, among the Stormwings, anyway.

_Is that the City Beneath The Waves?_ Daine asks once they're in sight. _It's fair wondrous._

_It really is,_ Skysong says, her pupils opened wide to catch the light necessary to see in the murky darkness underwater. _I’ve never seen anything like it._

Rikash squints ahead, his own night-vision not being quite as good as a dragon’s and probably not comparable to a dolphin’s, though he has no clue if dolphins actually have good vision or not. It's been a while since he's been to the City Beneath The Waves - a massive, sprawling capital city for all water-dwellers in the Divine Realms, whether gods or immortals.

As a result, there's considerable variation in the architecture, from the delicate towers made of coral to the massive kelp-beds where the whales meet for the underwater equivalent of coffee and philosophical masturbation. The styles are a wild amalgamation of human cultures, drawn from the dreams of each human that has ever wondered what mysteries lay beneath the waves - domes and curving archways, pointed spires and encircling tubes for private travel, complex stone labyrinths whose purpose (had they ever had one) has long since been lost.

It _is_ pretty impressive.

It'd be more impressive if Zusha could do literally anything to be more streamlined and stop dragging water.

"The second we're there," he pants, "you're on your own, bubble or no bubble."

"Yeah, whatever," Zusha grumbles. "Mush!"

Rikash is going to kill her.

Skysong and Daine are oohing and aahing by the time they reach one of the city gates - a massive archway made up of seashells, many of which still act as residences to the smaller species - but Rikash is just relieved to release the magic lasso and float on his own.

Next time, he's going to pretend he can't do the full bubble either. Let someone drag _him_ while he sits on his tail-feathers.

_So what do we do now?_ Daine asks.

"We should ask for directions," Serje says, having also disconnected from Dubukk despite the fact that Dubukk seems to have handled the strain just fine. "Have you seen the size of this place? We're not wandering blindly. You never know what you can run into here. Sunfish, anglerfish, blobfish, whiprays -"

"Kelpies, selkies, kushtaka -"

"Charybdis pits."

"Dubukk, those don't exist. Maybe we should ask the gatekeepers?"

_Do I want to know what a Charybdis pit is?_ Daine asks Rikash.

"Whirlpools that are actually holes in the fabric of the universe, slowly draining everything away into Uusoae's realm to be eaten," Rikash tells her. "In some versions of the tales they have teeth. So - not really? And they probably do exist, Serje just can't handle it."

"Shut up, Rikash," Serje says. "Thoughts on asking the gatekeepers?"

"Can't hurt," Zusha says, rolling her eyes. "Since we've been loud enough for each of them and their brother to hear us already. Hey there! Have you seen an undine named Llyneth?"

One of the hermit crabs in the gate pokes his head out of a shell (her head? Their head? Rikash can't tell, and he doesn't know how many genders hermit crabs recognize or what pronouns they use). _Go away_ , they say.

"Helpful," Serje grunts. "Listen, tell us where she is and we _will_ go away."

_I look like a tour guide or something? No._

_It's very important that we find her,_ Daine says. _We're trying to save the world from -_

The hermit crab scoffs, interrupting. _Oh, sure. You and every other would-be hero, traveling around with the birds._

"Can you at least confirm if she's in the city?" Rikash asks. "A neighborhood where undines usually go?"

_Undines don't come here much_ , the crab says. _Only one in the last few months. Don't know where she is;: don't care, neither._

"Listen, if you don't help us, everyone will be eaten!"

_Tell that to a plankton who'll care. Oh, wait - they don't._

Rikash really, really wants to make a joke about the gatekeeper being crabby, but he's pretty sure that will guarantee they don't get access to the city at all so he's biting his lip over it.

_Listen,_ Daine says. _Can you tell us anything at all?_

The crab huffs. _Fine_ , they say. _She's not in the city at the present. She went out earlier today and hasn't come back yet._

"Thanks," Dubukk says, then looks at the rest of them. "That's a problem. The Encircling Ocean is very large, and would be hard to search."

"We could search forever and not find her," Zusha agrees. "We need a guide."

_Where can we find one of those?_ Daine asks.

_I'll guide you_ , a bone-shakingly deep voice says placidly from behind them. 

They all spin around, only to see -

Oh crap.

_Mithros_ , Daine whispers. _What in the world..?_

_Big_ , Skysong says blankly. _Very big._

Skysong's not wrong. 

The god of sharks - a great white even larger than the dragons they met earlier - blinks calmly back at them. A single one of his teeth could put a hole in any of them, and he has a lot more than just one. 

Rikash _really_ should have expected something like this. When has this journey ever gone smoothly?

"ed'Rashtekeresket t'k Gh'shestaesteh," Rikash says politely. It pays to be polite around the Pale Slayer - especially if you're part of a species that tends to smell of blood. "What a pleasure to see you."

_His name is_ what? Daine hisses, sounding alarmed at the prospect of having to remember that mouthful.

_You can call me Ed,_ he says mildly, sounding amused. _People usually do, now – there was a tale. I can guide you where you wish to go._

"Thanks," Serje says. "I think. You know where Llyneth is?"

_There is only one undine about_ , Ed says. _I can smell her no matter where she goes._

Because that’s not extremely disturbing at all.

Well, it probably isn’t, to a shark.

_We'd be very grateful for your help_ , Daine says, very polite. _Is there anything we could do for you in return..?_

_I'm sure I can think of something_ , he says. _A war on the waves, perhaps. For the moment, follow me._

With that, he turns and begins to swim away. It's somehow slow and stately, but also fast enough that Rikash needs to hurry to keep up.

_He's so big_ , Skysong is still marveling. _He's like a dragon! What is he?_

"Master Shark," Rikash says with some effort - he's grabbed Zusha behind him to move faster again, and it's exhausting. "Ask Zusha."

"Not much more to it than that," Zusha says. "The first shark, the shark god. I'm pretty sure he can and has eaten dragons."

_Oooh!_

Skysong sounds intrigued rather than scared.

Dragons!

Ed leads them to the entrance of a deep crevasse. _There_ , he says. _Below._

Rikash can see boxes and boxes stacked beside the crevasse, each one glowing with a dull light which changes in color and intensity very few seconds.

_Those must be the chaos-weapons Moonwind was worried about_ , Daine says. _Ed, thank you for guiding us to - where did he go?!_

Rikash looks about.

No giant shark.

"I assume he went about on his own business," Serje says. "He can be fast when he wants to be."

_I'm not sure I like the idea of a shark that large that can move that fast._

"I'm not sure you liking it has anything to do with anything," Zusha says dryly. "He's going to exist whether you like it or not."

_Point well taken..._

"Let's find Llyneth," Rikash suggests. "That way we don't have to think about it."

"Let's also figure out a way to destroy the chaos-weapons," Dubukk suggests. "I’m not sure my fireballs work underwater."

“Have you tried?” Zusha asks. 

“…no?”

_Well, it's worth a shot_ , Daine says. 

They all swim over there to let Dubukk and Zusha take turns shooting fireballs at the boxes.

The fireballs end up turning into streams of boiling water, but the end result is that the boxes are destroyed, so Rikash isn't going to complain.

"Say, Daine," he says to what he hopes is the right dolphin. "What was it you were trying to mention to Moonwind earlier? I meant to ask, but we had to start swimming - and Zusha is heavy -"

_Ah. Yes. That._

Rikash arches his eyebrows. "Well, that sounds promising. And by promising, I mean it sounds like trouble."

_Yeah,_ Daine says with a sigh. _It is. I'm not proud of it, but you ought to know - I should've mentioned it sooner, in fact._

Skysong tries to bury her snout under Rikash's hair, which suggests that she knows what it is, and also that he probably won't like it.

_All right_ , Daine says. _It's a bit difficult to explain, but back when I started this mission -_

Zusha shrieks.

Rikash spins around, only to see Zusha and Dubukk fighting off a wave of small lights. 

Undine magic.

"Llyneth!" he shouts, casting a fireball of his own in their direction. "Come out! Coward!"

Daine flips her tail and zips forward, only to be thrown back by a sudden wave that turns into a whirlpool, keeping her stuck in place.

Rikash tries to swim forward, only to find that the water stream has turned against him; he has to strain even just to keep his bubble in place.

"Don't you call me a coward!" a small, high-pitched voice shrieks. "Traitor!"

Serje, closer than Rikash, throws a fireball burst at the source of the sound.

A shriek, and the undine appears, her invisibility dropping in the face of the heat. Like most undines, she's only about two feet tall, blue-haired with scales all over. 

"Traitors!" she shouts again, sending out a wave of small lights. "All of you! Traitors to all immortals!"

"You're the one working with Uusoae!" Rikash shouts back. "She'll eat the whole world! How are _we_ the traitors?"

"You're working with _her_!" Llyneth shouts, pointing at Daine's paralyzed form. "Her! Her that's going to destroy us all!"

"What?" Zusha exclaims. "Her? She's not doing anything! She's trying to stop it!"

"That's absurd," Serje agrees. Even Dubukk is shaking his head.

Rikash feels his heart sink. 

Something Daine wasn't proud of.

He has the feeling he's about to find out what.

"Oh, you don't know, do you?" Llyneth gloats. "She never told you; of course she didn't. You're not traitors - you're just stupid!"

"What is it, then?" Rikash asks. "If you're so smart, why don't you tell us what it is she's supposed to have done?"

"She's made a deal with the Great Gods! She's going to lock us all in here!"

Rikash frowns. "What?"

"The barrier! The barrier that's going to come down! If she stops Uusoae, the Great Gods'll reinforce it, locking us immortals here for good - and most _especially_ Stormwings. You won't be able to travel within the Divine Realms at all, much less have a scrap of access to humans!"

Rikash looks at Daine, hoping for a denial - but not necessarily expecting one.

Stormwing Killer.

He should've known. 

Daine thrashes against the whirlpool keeping her stuck in place, dolphin mouth agape with the effort. _It's not like that!_ she shouts. _It's not - I didn't - I was going to change the agreement -_

"We'd starve," Dubukk says. He sounds numb. "Our whole race would starve, every one of us, from the oldest elders to the youngest chicks still in egg."

_She didn't know about you!_ Skysong exclaims. _She didn't know there were_ good _Stormwings -_

"And I've never met a dragon I liked," Serje snaps, his voice bitter. "Should I kill the whole lot of you, then, just in case? Better yet, should I've gotten you to _help_ me with it?!"

_It wasn't like that!_ Daine exclaims. 

"That's why you didn't think it was assassinations at first, wasn't it?" Zusha sneers. "You and your humans - Tortall, all of you - you don't care about immortal lives at all. You wanted us all dead. We're as meaningless and interchangeable as training ground dummies - and you can't assassinate those. No, you just put them down. That's what you planned for us!"

_I was wrong! I made a mistake - but I've learned - I would never - I'm going to change the deal, Rikash - Rikash, please, you have to listen to me -_

"It doesn't matter," Rikash says. "All of you, stop listening to Llyneth; she's trying to distract you. Attack her _now_!"

They listen.

Good Stormwings all, they put aside their doubts, and they listen to their Lord, twisting to fire fireball after fireball at a shrieking Llyneth.

She casts sparking lights at them, that flock like fireflies and burn at their skin, and sends waves to batter their sides.

They can't get anywhere near her, not in a magic-fight, not as exhausted as they are - all together they're doing no more than keeping her even. If they could get close enough to use their claws or wings, that would be one thing, but they can't. Not in the water, an undine's own element.

"You really are traitors, then! Mortal-lovers!" Llyneth sneers. "Willing to sell your own kind to their deaths!"

"No," Rikash says. He feels strangely empty - he ought to be enraged, or upset, or something, but he just feels nothing. No, not nothing. Disappointed. He's disappointed. Not just in Daine, but in himself. He should've known. "Not traitors. Just not stupid. Or do you think that we wouldn't notice that you must have started working with Uusoae _before_ Daine made her deal, for you to be included in it? The deal couldn't have _caused_ your actions - it comes after them!"

Llyneth's face twists in rage. "Uusoae will open the barrier for good," she hisses. "She'll rip it down -"

"And then _eat_ everyone!" Serje shouts. "Why does everyone on your side skip over that part?!"

"She'll be stopped," Llyneth says dismissively. "The Great Gods -"

"If you let her get loose, even they won't be able to stop her, you wet noodle!" Zusha snaps. "That's the whole _point_! You can't use the Queen of Chaos for your own purposes!"

"Better to try that than resign myself to being tools of this godborn traitor and her -"

She never finishes her sentence.

Massive jaws, larger than all of them together, come down with a bone-snapping crunch, and abruptly the magic keeping them all in place vanishes, signaling the death of the caster.

Ed chews a few times, then swallows.

_I don't approve of people contracting with Chaos_ , he says mildly. _Never have. You have your priorities right, young Stormwing._

Rikash would normally object to being called young, but right now he doesn't care.

He knows Ed's right - stopping Uusoae is the priority - but he also knows that he can't let Daine go through with her agreement with the Great Gods.

The simplest way to stop that agreement, of course, would be to kill her before she completes her side of the bargain.

It's not impossible: they have the advantage of numbers, and the terrain is friendlier to them - she can't use her bow, or most of the shapes she's most comfortable with, and dolphin teeth, while fearsome, require close range to work and are useless against steel. 

It wouldn't even interfere with their plan to stop Uusoae: they know the names of the last few of her pawns, as well as Numair. Queen Barzha has already promised her aid, as has Moonwind. Tortall would fight, of course; why wouldn't they? It was in their own interest.

Daine could protest all she liked about changing her mind, about making a new deal, but that would leave them all in her hands - not just the four of them, but _all_ Stormwings.

As a Lord, Rikash is burdened with a duty beyond his own wishes, beyond his own inclinations. He has to think of the bigger picture.

All he needs to do is order the others to attack. They'd listen. They listened before. And Ed wouldn't object - he didn't care, not really, not as long as they stopped Uusoae.

( _You have your priorities right._ )

It makes sense. It's undoubtedly the right thing to do. 

So why isn't he doing anything?

_Rikash?_ Skysong asks in his ear, sounding distressed. _Are you okay? You're not moving._

Ah, that must be it. He can't kill Skysong's guardian right before her eyes. That must be why he's not doing anything. 

It's certainly not because his heart hurts at the thought of it, because that would be the absolute worst sort of foolishness. 

_Rikash -_ Daine starts.

"We should go," he interrupts, shaking his head. "With Llyneth dead, there's no need to stick around in the Divine Realms. Both Queen Jachull and Gaoha are in the Mortal Realms."

Zusha and Dubukk are looking at him, frowning in concern, and even Serje looks a bit worried. 

"Rikash -" Zusha starts.

"The barrier is still there," Rikash barrels on. He doesn’t want to talk about it. "So we need another way into the Mortal Realms. Daine, what was your return plan?"

_Rikash,_ Daine says. _About the agreement I made, it was before -_

"Not what I asked."

She's quiet for a moment. _Right_ , she says, her voice sounding almost stuck, like there’s something in her throat she needs to swallow around. Which isn’t right; she doesn’t get to sound hurt over this. She’s the one who made the deal in the first place. _That's fair. As for exit strategy, I didn't have time to plan one._

"You didn't have time?!" Serje squawks, and for once Rikash agrees with him. "You took a one-way trip to the Divine Realms?"

_It seemed like a good idea at the time! I figured worst case I would hit the Dragonlands last and get a ride from there -_

"But they've just agreed to go help," Zusha argues, "they won't be there -"

_That wasn't part of the original plan, now was it?! And Diamondflame might still be there - or Wingstar if he's busy -_

"It's not exactly a short flight from here to the Dragonlands, not without dragon magic!" Serje snaps. "We have to be in the Mortal Realms in two days!"

"We do," Rikash says. "We can't let Queen Barzha down. We have to find a shorter route, or a nearer one. The Great Gods -"

But Daine is shaking her head. _They told me from the start they couldn't be seen as intervening, and anyway that they'll be too busy confining Uusoae. They won't help._

"So, what, we're _stuck_ here?" Serje demands.

_There's another way,_ Ed says, making them all jump, each and every one of them having forgotten that he was there. Rikash isn't sure how they forgot about the giant shark, but they'd managed it. Ed is a sneaky old creature. _Not far away at all, if you'd like._

"We'd be very grateful if you could show us the way," Rikash says. "Our kind will thank your children in the Mortal Realms - for as long as we can."

Oh, look, dolphins can flinch. Rikash hadn't known they could do that.

_Down the crevasse_ , Ed says. _Swim there and you'll find the kraken._

_The old ship killer?!_ Daine exclaims. _But he's in the Mortal Realms - Mithros, there isn't more than one of his kind, is there?_

_Just the one_ , Ed says, amused. _But he's very large, even as gods count size - larger than me, larger than the dragons, with tentacles a mile long. When the barrier went up, it sucked all the immortals into the Divine Realms before closing - but mortal magic can only do so much, particularly when faced with quite such a monumental task. Half of his body lies in the Divine Realms, half in the Mortal -_

_That was half?! Half?! I saw him! That was not half!_

Rikash is not finding this funny. He's _not_. Daine betrayed him and every Stormwing out there, every immortal out there; she's even more cold-blooded than he ever imagined, ruthlessly planning the end of them all while traveling in their company. He's not going to laugh at her exaggerated mock-horror.

...maybe it's a _little_ funny.

_His back half is here below_ , Ed says coolly, ignoring Daine. _The barrier tried to close around him but couldn't, so there's a gap right around him. He's wiggled so much in the last four centuries that the gap's grown larger. You should be able to squeeze through._

"That must be how Llyneth was smuggling chaos-weapons through," Dubukk observes quietly. "Thank you, Ed. We'll go that route."

_Good luck_ , Ed says. _I would rather not see my oceans pour down Uusoae's throat._

"Agreed," Rikash says shortly. "Let's go."

_Rikash -_ Skysong starts to say.

"I'm not in the mood to chat, Skysong," he says. "I need to take Zusha along with me and I'm tired already. If you want someone to talk to, I can transfer you over to Dubukk."

_No. No, it's fine_ , she says, settling down. _I want to stay with you._

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see that her scales are a miserable grey.

He feels bad about it, but he also really doesn't want to talk about it.

"Save your magic - I can swim myself," Zusha says. "It's close enough. Let's go."

They head down the crevasse slowly and silently - a dull, bitter silence, not at all like the cheerful, companionable silence with which they first entered the ocean.

"Rikash," Serje murmurs, having maneuvered his way near even with unwieldy wings being used as flippers. "About Daine -"

"You were right to be suspicious," Rikash says. "I should've been more wary. We knew she was hiding something, but we thought we'd figured it out when we found out about the coldfangs - clearly too hasty. My decision, my error. Feel free to gloat."

"I wasn't going to do that," Serje grumbles. "Wouldn't be any fun right now, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Listen. You - all right?"

Rikash gives Serje a weird look. 

Serje rolls his eyes. "No, I haven't been influenced by chaos or anything -"

That was going to be Rikash's first guess.

"- but a blind man would've still noticed that you, uh, admired Daine. A lot."

Rikash flinches. Had he been that obvious?

Curse his stupid, emotional face.

"Not that it's a problem," Serje says quickly. "I mean, I was still going to make fun of you for being a mortal-lover and all that, but she's not actual really mortal, is she? Or, well, she is, but only for right now. She's a godborn. It's - okay, still weird, but hardly the weirdest thing we've had in the flock, am I right? Better than old Steeljaw -"

Rikash chokes on the air in his bubble. "You said you'd never bring up Steeljaw again," he marvels. "Him being your cousin and all." 

"Yeah, well, this is clearly a crisis so I'm willing to put it aside. Listen. It's not the end of the world, is it?"

Rikash stares at him. "Serje," he says slowly. "It - actually is? That's the whole point? If we don't help her, Uusoae wins and the world ends. If we _do_ , we get locked into the Divine Realms and die horribly of starvation, and so the world - at least the Stormwing part of it - ends."

"She said she was changing the deal," Serje points out.

"Since when do you take anything _anyone_ says on faith?" Rikash demands. "I thought you'd be the first one demanding that we -" His voice cracks. "- that we make sure the agreement isn't valid."

"Normally, yes," Serje says. "Not in this instance."

"What, because of my _feelings_?"

"No, you blithering blackbird. Because Queen Barzha had her alone, one-on-one, for nearly four hours, and decided to trust her anyway. I might not trust most people, but I do trust the Queen's judgment - if she thought Daine was better off dead, Daine'd be dead already. She was in the middle of the Abattoir at the time! Even if she wasn't surrounded by Stormwings, the land itself would've risen up in our defense."

That -

Actually made sense.

"So what you're saying," Rikash says slowly, "is that I don't need to - that my duty as a Lord doesn't mean -"

"I'm _saying_ that we're headed back to the Mortal Realms, where we'll meet up with Queen Barzha in two days," Serje says. "Less than that, now. You can tell her then and let her make the final decision."

Rikash's shoulders slump with relief. "Yes," he says. "That's - that's good. You're right. Queen Barzha will know what to do. I'll do that."

"So now can you stop flying with your wings at half-mast already? You're embarrassing everyone!"

"Oh, stuff your feathers up your -"

_Is that the kraken?_ Skysong asks, reminding them both that she's still on Rikash's back and causing Rikash to quickly bite off the end of that sentence.

"Yes," Zusha says loudly. "That's the kraken."

_I haven't missed this fellow_ , Daine grumbles. _I was thirteen last time I saw him and I don't appreciate the reminder._

"Ed wasn't joking about how large he is," Dubukk comments.

He really wasn't. Tentacles rolling out across the crevasse, far too long and excessively wide, and, most importantly, a certain familiar shimmering right around the thick part of his trunk.

"That way," Rikash says. "Follow -"

"Me," Dubukk says. "You have Skysong on your back. Me first, then you, then Serje as back-up for us, then Daine and finally Zusha to cover our rear."

"Yes," Rikash coughs. "Yes, that. Very good. Go on."

_I don't see what we're aiming at_ , Daine confesses.

"That shimmer is a gap in the barrier," Zusha says, falling back. "Right there, in front."

_I just see kraken._

_I see it_ , Skysong volunteers. _Dubukk is flying right at it - just follow him._

_I'll do that_ , Daine says. _I trust him. You. All of you._

"Oh, very smooth," Serje grumbles. "Just fly, will you?"

Going through the barrier is an interesting experience - a bit like dragon magic and a bit like high altitude flying, all together, like being squeezed out of a tube but also like flying through thick mud.

It's distinctly uncomfortable for a long few moments - and then, with a sticky popping sound, they're through.

_Ew_ , Skysong announces. _Dragon magic is a much better way to travel - you just fly up and then down._

"How about when you get nice and large, Skysong, you fly us?" Rikash offers. 

_I will! But there won't be a barrier by then, so it'll be easier anyway._

"Skysong -"

_You and Daine need to make up_ , she says stubbornly. _She's really sorry, you know. She changed her mind really early on, she just didn't know what she could do about it, that's all. With Moonwind pointing out that the Great Gods aren't always right, she realized she could stop the deal from going through. So what's the problem?_

"The problem is that she made a deal like that in the first place," Rikash says. "That she thought so little of us that she'd destroy us all like that...and then there's the fact that she could always change her mind again."

_But she won't!_

"I don't exactly have any guarantees of that."

_But...oh,_ Skysong says, then puts her snout by Rikash's cheek, pressing them together. _You feel like you can't trust her. That's why you're sad._

That isn't the only reason, but Rikash doesn't want to talk about this any further, especially with Daine bursting back into the Mortal Realms only a minute or so behind them.

_It'll be all right_ , Skysong tells him. _She's very trustworthy. You'll see._

"Skysong -"

_Didn't you say something about being tired?_ she says briskly. _You should get up to the surface before you forget how to filter air through the bubble._

Rikash rolls his eyes and flaps forward, just as Daine comes through the gap behind them.

_Well, well, well_ , a deep voice says. _If it isn't my favorite little fish. Do you have more armadas for me to destroy? You could owe me another favor._

_I gave you an very nice armada to destroy the first time around_ , Daine says primly. _You did it just for the pleasure, remember? If anything, you owe me for providing the opportunity._

The kraken shakes with laughter, displacing so much water that Rikash feels like he's fighting Llyneth again. 

_Clever fish_ , he says. _At least you've learned not to bother asking the whales._

_I’ve learned to respect their pacifism, even if I don't agree with it_ , Daine says. _If you put aside your request for a favor, there might be a battle coming up you could help with. Lots of ships and chaos-weapons to destroy._

_I'll be there_ , the kraken says. _The sharks have already started swimming in the right direction - though if you hope to get there yourself, I'd hurry up if I were you._

"An excellent point," Serje says. "Maybe we can get above water sometime this century? Maybe?"

_Hold your horses, I'm coming._

"I don't have horses."

_You know exactly what I meant, Serje; don't you start with me._

"No one on this trip has a sense of humor anymore," he grouses.

"This way to the surface," Rikash says, deciding to ignore him.

It takes them nearly half an hour to make it back to air, and another half hour to reach land, and by that point they're all so tired that they barely have the energy to agree to rest.

Luckily, it's a forested area, so the Stormwings can just land on thick branches and fall asleep as they fly, muttering barely coherent thanks to the trees as they forget that they're not still in the Divine Realms. Daine manages to unroll her bedroll and pull on pants and a breastband, but falls asleep reaching for a shirt.

Rikash wakes up the next morning to find themselves guarded by rabbit sentries, out grazing in the nearby area.

Alone out of the rest of them, Dubukk's already awake and talking in murmured Lapin with one of them - undoubtedly their chief. 

He glances down.

Daine is curled up around Skysong, both of them snoring peacefully. Skysong's scales are a soft blue-grey, not unlike Daine's eyes. Daine - well, Daine's hair is a curly tangled mess, her eyes are reddish, her nose is scrunched up as if she's having an unpleasant dream, and at least four rabbits have decided to come sit on her.

She's beautiful. 

Rikash shakes his head. Not a helpful thought. After all, even if she did plan to keep her word and not doom all Stormwings to a horrible death, it isn't as though she planned to stick around or anything.

Not that he'd want her to.

Because there wouldn't be any reason to -

Ugh, no, he can’t lie about this. He really does like her: she's fearless and funny, with a dry sense of humor, and stubborn enough to kick dirt into the faces of gods, and good with chicks and - and - and Rikash is clearly losing his mind. 

This is _awful_.

"Dubukk," he calls out abruptly. "I'm going out on patrol, and to see if I can figure out where in the Mortal Realms we ended up. Shouldn't take longer than a half-hour. Can you make sure everyone's ready to go by then?"

Dubukk waves a wing, acknowledging, and so Rikash takes off.

The brisk sea air is refreshing, but the smell of humans winding downwind is even better. Even a small fishing village has its share of fear and war - perhaps that ought to be 'especially'? Small towns can be positively cruel - and the taste is so much more vibrant in the Mortal Realms.

Irony, Rikash supposes - the gods' food is more vibrant and filling than human food, but those of them who feed off humans are much better off here.

Where they _should_ be.

Rikash consoles himself with the thought that Queen Barzha will know what to do and focuses on collecting enough landmarks to get a decent idea of where they are.

When he flies back - a little short of the half-hour he'd told Dubukk, everyone is awake.

Also, arguing.

"- enough of that nonsense!" Daine is saying, hands on her hips. She sounds exasperated, but she's also smiling faintly. "Even you, Kitten? You're supposed to be on my side!" 

Ah, they must be discussing the revelation.

"You know, you could probably resize a harbor chain link for the ring -" Zusha starts to respond, giant smirk on her face. 

"Rikash!" Dubukk exclaims loudly, cutting Zusha off. "You're back early."

Rikash frowns at him as he settles down on a branch. "Only by a minute or two?" he points out. It's almost as though Dubukk didn't want Rikash to hear Zusha threaten Daine if she broke her promise to them to amend the deal - assuming that that's what she was doing, but Rikash doesn't know what Zusha plans to do with a gigantic ring - but whatever. "Anyway, we need to get moving - judging by the landmarks, we're all the way over by Pearlmouth."

"By _Pearlmouth_?!" Daine yelps. "Where is this battle taking place again?!"

"Off Port Legann?"

"That's what I thought. We'll never make it in time! That's a week of walking -"

"Only a day and a half of hard flying, if we push it and don't take too many breaks," Rikash says. 

_I like taking breaks_ , Skysong says. 

"You like eating, you mean," Zusha says. "Don't worry, we can eat on the wing."

"Maybe you can," Daine says. "Me and Kitten need substantive food, remember? And rest? Eagles can fly a long way, but they need to stop to hunt along the way."

"Try an albatross," Dubukk suggests. "They're migratory."

"...thanks, Dubukk. Not quite the point I was trying to make, though."

"We're going to end up using a sack, aren't we," Serje grumbles. "I hate sack flying."

"What an excellent suggestion, Serje," Rikash says innocently. "I think we'll do just that. There's a fishing village nearby with some sails we can repurpose."

_Oooh,_ Skysong says. _We're going to use the sail to create a sack to carry whoever gets tired?_

"Exactly."

"I'm paying the fishermen for their sail first," Daine warns.

"Drop off some gold on the way," Rikash says. "We don't want the battle to start without us, do we?"

She sighs, but nods. Then, surprisingly, she grins. 

"What?" Rikash asks suspiciously.

"No, nothing," she says. "Just imagining the fisherman walking out to see his sail being stolen and getting rained on by gold a second later - think of his _expression_."

Rikash does, and he can't quite conceal his laugh as a cough.

Zusha and Serje don't even bother to try. 

"Give me a minute to put my clothes away, then," she says.

Rikash sighs, but since it really is only a minute, there's not much for it but to agree. After that, though, they're off.

The fisherman's expression is just as amusing as they might've hoped.

_I hope he didn't see that you were Stormwings_ , Daine comments, soaring comfortably on albatross wings. _It'd be fair amusing to get a report of albatrosses what've learned commerce._

"Would you get a report of it?" Dubukk asks. "What for, if he’s already been paid?"

_I'm the famous Wild Mage of Tortall,_ Daine says dryly. _Anytime any animal acts the slightest bit off, people send reports up to Corus. Most of the time it's natural animal behavior, just uncommon,, but sometimes we can spot illnesses early as a result. I've got a Rider group of my own, you know - all trained veterinarians or people with wild magic. They go out to check on the animal reports when I can't._

"Seems reasonable."

_You'd think so, but it took Thayet near on three years to push the measure ordering it through - we were operating long before, you understand, informally, but that made it an actual paid position rather than me selling off Numair's fancy robes behind his back to pay them back for their time._

_He pretended that he didn't know in case some noble accused him of embezzling or something_ , Skysong says nostalgically. _And he'd search the entire tower - lifting everything up with magic as if he thought it'd be hiding under some chair somewhere. It was great!_

_It was_ , Daine says quietly. Her voice is sad.

Reasonable, given that she thinks he's a walking corpse being puppeted by Uusoae -

"You'll probably have to confront him at the final battle, you know," Serje says. His wings are unusually relaxed, as if he’s forcing them to lie smooth despite the fact that his high-strung nature usually means that he looks tense when he’s actually at ease. "If the goal was to lure us out, he's there waiting for you, along with the coldfangs."

_I know. Better me to battle him than any other, though - I know his tricks, even if I can't match 'em. No one else comes anywhere close to him._

“That sounds hard,” Serje says. 

His voice is casual.

Serje is _never_ casual.

“Serje, don’t –” Rikash starts, not even entirely sure what it is Serje’s about to do but quite sure that it’s probably going to be trouble.

“Especially since you’ll probably need to kill him while he’s still alive and fighting,” Serje concludes.

“Serje!” Rikash and Zusha exclaim at once. 

_He’s what?_ Daine demands. _How do you know that?_

“Why would you say that?” Zusha says, frowning at him.

_Especially since you all said not to say anything!_ Skysong blurts out.

_Kitten! You knew about this?_

_They said it would only make you feel worse about having to fight him…_

_Explain. Now._

_They’re Stormwings,_ Skysong says wretchedly. _Rikash smelled fear on Numair, and since Uusoae doesn’t feel fear, that fear must be from Numair himself and that means he’s alive under there. But that doesn’t matter since we’re still probably going to have to kill him and now you’ll hesitate when fighting him and that means he might kill you and I don’t want him to kill you – I don’t want you to have to kill him either but I really don’t want him to kill you -_

“It’ll be fine,” Rikash says hastily, seeing Skysong heading quickly to hysterics. As the person with her sharp silver claws right next to his flesh, he’d rather she didn’t. “Remember, it’s not just Daine, remember? We’ll be helping out. Even if she hesitates, we’ll back her and make sure she doesn’t get killed.”

_You will? Even though you’re angry at her?_

“Definitely. We promise.”

Skysong sniffs. _Fine. You still shouldn’t have said that, Serje._

Serje shrugs. “Oh, I’m sure your guardian will be fine with it,” he says. “I’m sure when Rikash said that you shouldn’t tell her, that was back when we assumed she’d hesitate at cold-bloodedly deciding to slaughter sentient beings that weren’t intentionally harming her, an assumption that’s since been revised.”

“That’s probably uncalled for,” Zusha says. “This Numair was her friend.”

“What, like it’s better that she thought we were evil unthinking automatons that could be disposed of without anyone shedding a tear?”

“Serje,” Dubukk says quietly. “Enough. We understand that you’re upset; we are, too. But we’re also working together against Uusoae, and that matters more. So drop it.”

“Oh, all right,” Serje grumbles, but his wings return to their normal state. A few second later, he adds, reluctantly, “Sorry.”

_No_ , Daine says. _It’s fair for you to be angry._

“Being angry is not a basis for him to flout decisions that were made with very good reasons,” Rikash says pointedly. 

_Probably not, but I’m glad he did,_ Daine says. _I’d always – well, maybe not always, but usually, I’d rather know the truth and take my lumps than swallow down a more satisfying lie._

“Won’t it make it harder for you to act, knowing what you know?” Zusha asks.

Daine flies in silence for a few moments, considering. _I think,_ she says slowly, _that fighting Numair was already going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. This doesn’t change that._

Rikash squelches the automatic flutter of admiration in his chest. “So,” he says instead, deciding that they’d had enough serious talk for a while. “Long flight ahead of us. Who wants to play ‘Guess the Issue’?”

Zusha and Serje immediately groan.

“Me,” Dubukk says.

_What’s ‘Guess the Issue’?_ Skysong asks.

“It’s a flying game,” Zusha says. “Someone picks something and everyone else has to guess what it is.”

_I think I’ve played that, or a version of that_ , Daine comments. _I say that I’ve spied something blue, everyone has to guess what blue object I’ve got in mind, something like that?_

“Objects, hah! That’d probably be more fun,” Serje grumbles. “No, ‘Guess the Issue’ is the stupid educational version that we use to teach young Stormwings how to distinguish the nuances of human emotions.”

“None of us have been to the Mortal Realms more than a few times,” Rikash points out. “There’s a lot more diversity here than at home. It wouldn’t hurt to brush up.”

_How do you play?_ Daine asks.

“Well, for example,” Dubukk says, “I smell, hmm, female fear with fat on it.”

“Pregnant woman afraid she’s losing her looks?” Rikash suggests.

“Mother afraid that her child will run into the stewpot,” Zusha guesses.

“Wife being beaten in the kitchen,” Serje grumbles. 

“Wrong, all,” Dubukk tells them. “A young girl just stole some meat from the local village headman’s wedding and shoved it into her pocket to eat for later; she’s afraid the grease’ll leave marks and reveal what she’s done.”

They all groan.

“We need more details than that!” Zusha argues. “That could’ve been anything – you should’ve at least specified a bit more –”

_I wanna play!_ Skysong announces. _Rikash, help me pick a smell!_

Daine starts laughing. 

It’s very hard to stay angry at someone when you’re flying along the coast on a beautiful day, with enough clouds to ensure they aren’t harassed by hunters but plenty of sunshine, and you’re playing silly guessing games to pass the time. Even the fast pace they’re flying isn’t really an impediment, not with all the fear from the past years of war filling their bellies as they go. 

Rikash was always pretty bad at holding grudges.

He still might need to kill her, but that’s Queen Barzha’s decision, not his, and anyway it makes him queasy to think about, so he – doesn’t.

The sack ends up proving quite helpful in terms of avoiding breaks, but Daine insists on sleeping on the ground come nightfall.

“We’re on a deadline,” Rikash reminds her. “A quickly vanishing deadline.”

“Arriving with half our party half-asleep won’t help anybody,” Daine points out in return. “We’re making good progress – we’re only a few hours out, right?”

“Quite a few hours, and that’s at full speed; it’ll take even longer at regular flying speed since obviously it doesn’t make sense to arrive exhausted, either,” Serje says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll have to hope they don’t start without us.”

They head out before dawn the next morning – after the requisite wait for Daine to remove the clothing she’d practically just put on – and they’re making excellent progress when it hits them all like a wave.

A sweet, delicious wave. 

_What happened?_ Daine demands. _You all suddenly started grinning._

“War,” Dubukk says happily. “A nice, big lovely battle just started.”

Rikash nods in concurrence. He’s younger than the barrier, so while Queen Barzha has let them sneak into the Mortal Realms for a quick skirmish or two, he hasn’t really seen a proper battle. A fact, he hopes, which is about to change for the better.

_Good to know_ , Daine says. _Important question: is it_ our _battle? Because we’re still at least an hour distant._

That knocks them all out of their happy little dazes.

“Yes,” Rikash says. “That’s our battle. Port Legann. Right. Daine, go sit on Dubukk’s shoulder – or better yet, turn into something small and cling on to his shoulder the way Skysong is on mine. Everyone else, war-band formation. We’ll get there faster that way.”

_If you have a faster way of flying, why didn’t you do that to begin with?_ Skysong asks as the rest of them rearrange themselves, Daine turning into a marmoset in mid-air to land on Dubukk’s shoulder.

“A war-band is a very particular form of flying that involves using our battle-aura,” Rikash explains. “You don’t do it just for travel – only to fight.”

_Why?_

“It weakens our enemy and gets our blood up,” Zusha says. "And once we're in the mood for trouble, it's hard to get us _out_ of that mood - so there'd better be a battle to have fun with or adrenaline to burn it out of our system. Nothing worse than unfulfilled Stormwings high on their own battle-aura."

_Got it. I'm on; let's fly._

They fly.

With only four Stormwings, only the diamond formation makes sense. Rikash takes the lead, Dubukk - their strongest mage - on his left flank and Zusha, their best fighter, bringing up the rear. Serje, who is a vicious fighter in his own right though no match for Zusha, flies on the right flank; that position is usually assumed by other groups to be the strongest, and thus Stormwings, who are universally ambidextrous, usually put their weakest there. Not that Serje is particularly weak, even if Rikash is being mean about it.

The good thing about war-band flying is that any tiredness Rikash might have felt just melts away, replaced by anticipation, and his senses are heightened - his hearing sharpened, his sight sensitized to movement, even his sense of smell keener than usual.

The not-so-good thing is that it makes him a little less diplomatic than he might otherwise be.

That's probably why he reacts the way he does.

_We need to stop,_ Daine says.

"What for?" Serje demands before Rikash can. "We're almost there - a minute or two more across the village, another three to get over the castle, and we're in the battlefield! We can _see_ it!"

This is true: they can see the ships clashing on the water, magic lashing between them - hear the clatter of sword against sword as knights meet in battle on land, the thud of arrows landing on flesh as the defenders desperately shoot at the invading immortals of all kinds - smell the fear and rage of the living, the stinking rot of the dead and dying –

Battle, a Stormwing's true calling, lies ahead of them.

Rikash can even see Queen Barzha at the head of her forces, swooping in from above, and feel the familiar frisson of the magic of the Stone Tree nation.

His nation - and him as their Lord. He should be there!

And Daine wanted to _stop?!_

_It'll only take a minute_ , Daine says. _I need to stop by the castle and tell them that you and the other Stormwings are our allies - right now they're guessing so, since they're attacking the other side, but a few of them are still shooting arrows at them. That needs to stop._

She has a point.

"Fine," Rikash says. "But why does that mean we need to pause over the castle? Can't you just swing down and yell it?"

"Or swing down, turn human, tell them, then jump back up?" Dubukk suggests. "Shouldn't take more than a minute."

_Well_ , Daine says, _I need to get dressed first -_

" _Now?!_ " Rikash exclaims. "Are you _kidding_? Again?! What is _with_ you and constantly putting on and off your clothing?!"

Daine blinks. _Uh - I have to be human to explain to my friends that you're on our side? They don't understand bird._

"I realize that. But must you constantly be getting dressed first?"

_Hey, human skin is sensitive!_

"So? Grow some scales or something! Not this constant dressing and undressing, packing and unpacking - I think we've take more time to do that than relieving ourselves!"

Daine barks a laugh. Not an angry or sarcastic one, but a sincere one, like Rikash when he's surprised by something he finds funny.

_I like that! I like that a lot_ , she says, grinning a monkey's smile. _And here I thought you lot were being unusually polite about me having to strip all the time, when in fact you've just got no nudity taboo, do you?_

"Do you see any of us wearing clothing?" Zusha points out reasonably.

_Guess not. Well, humans_ do _have a thing about being naked. I've adjusted to it, when I've got to, but if I can I want clothing._

"Oh, _fine_! But you're going in the sack so we don't have to stop twice."

_Deal._

They land, she dresses - with unusual speed, Rikash will give her that much - and then they lift her up in the sack and make for the castle.

"Daine?" a woman calls out the second they come anywhere near, holding her hand over her eyes against the glare. "Is that you? With _Stormwings_?"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Daine shouts as they fly by. "I've made an alliance with one of their nations - they're the ones fighting the other side! So stop shooting at them."

"We thought that might be it," Queen Thayet of Tortall says. She's short and skinnier even than Daine, with dark hair piled up on top of her head and a nose that reminds him of Queen Barzha. She looks fierce and possibly somewhat murderous, though that might just be the expression Rikash assumes all Queens have. "I assume you're responsible for the dragons, too?"

They look.

Ah, yes. The dragons.

Moonwind and three of her kin, cheerfully ripping apart barges with their claws like barbarians - they're not even using magic!

They're having a grand old time of it, too, by the look of it.

"Uh," Daine says. "They're sort of responsible for themselves, really. I wouldn't go near them - it's not like it was with Diamondflame. These ones don't like humans much; they just like Uusoae even less."

"I see."

"And, uh, tell people to watch out for sharks."

"Not rabbits, though," Dubukk says. "They don't do battle, though they're at work investigating what warehouses might be storing chaos weapons."

"I wouldn't have expected them to fight," Daine agrees, lips twitching.

"Daine, wait!" Thayet shouts as they start to pass the castle. "We need you on the west flank! It's Numair!"

"Crap," Daine says, humor fading at once. "Okay, I'm on it."

"You are _not_ on it," Rikash says. "We need to go help Queen Barzha! She's fighting Queen Jachull!"

"And we still need to find and kill Gaoha," Zusha points out. "I don't think it's a good idea for your Numair to get that stone you have in your pocket before all the pawns are dead."

"But -"

_Daine, Numair will chase you, won't he?_ Skysong says. _He dropped everything in the Mortal Realms to chase us to the Divine Realms; won't he do the same now?_

"He won't have much of a choice," Dubukk says. 

"Dubukk's right," Serje says. "He's gone hunting with coldfangs. They don't much appreciate - or understand - people dropping out of a thief hunt midway."

Daine nods. "You're right." She raises her voice once more. "Thayet! We'll try to draw him away from our forces - do you happen to know where there's an ogre mastermind?"

"An _ogre_ mastermind? No wonder we couldn't figure out who was leading them! Go to the north - there's an encampment there; based on how the battle's been reacting, we think their generals are observing from there."

"North, got it. Thanks!"

"Don't thank me! Stop Numair!"

With that, they're past the castle.

"Rikash, we need to go north!" Daine calls.

"We need to help Queen Barzha!" he protests. "Get your bow out - you can shoot from the sack, can't you?"

"Taking out their general will help the battle more!"

"She's my _Queen_ , Daine!"

"You're both right, you baffle-brained turtledoves!" Serje shouts. "Daine, get out your thrice-damned bow and start shooting; you'll do more damage that way than by turning into any type of animal. Dubukk and I will take the sack – and Daine – towards Gaoha; and in the meantime Rikash and Zusha can go help Queen Barzha."

_I'm going with Daine!_ Skysong exclaims, leaping down from Rikash's shoulder to the sack. _I'll keep an eye out for any of Numair's tricks!_

"And we'll deal with the coldfangs if we have to," Dubukk agrees. "Rikash, give Serje your part of the sack and go!"

Rikash doesn't want to, doesn't want to send Daine into battle without him, but they're right. His duty as a Lord is to be by his Queen's side, and his duty as a Stormwing is to make sure Uusoae doesn't win. This is the best way to do both.

"Good luck," he tells her, handing the sack over to Serje. "Don't die.”

She smiles at him. "You take care not to die, either."

Rikash finds himself flushing a bit, so he just nods jerkily and flies away as fast as he can.

Zusha, when she catches up with Rikash, is sniggering.

“Shut up,” Rikash says. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Stop _thinking_ it.”

That just gets him more sniggering, so he's pretty sure it didn't work.

Either way, though, they're coming up to where the fighting between Stormwings is the thickest, so the time for chit-chat is over.

Rikash scans the crowd to find Queen Barzha, spots her facing a trio of older female enforcers from the Mortal Fear nation, and tucks his wings to a barreling dive that takes him straight into the unprotected head and shoulders of one of them, knocking her out of the air and into a tumbling freefall.

"You need to stop resorting to throwing yourself at things," Zusha scolds hypocritically as she barrels into a second one. "Next thing you know you'll split your head open on a rock and then where will we be? Screaming over your dead body, that's where."

"You can't argue with his results, though," Queen Barzha observes, using the distraction they caused to chop down the last remaining enforcer. "Rikash, Zusha, excellent timing as always - if a _touch_ late."

"In our defense, we had to travel by kraken to get here," Zusha says.

"By..? That's a story I look forward to hearing." She spins fast enough to shake loose a pinfeather, flinging it into the throat of a hurrok that thought she was distracted enough not to see it coming. "Perhaps later. Queen Jachull is hiding behind her flock, which is most unlike her - we're chipping away at her defensive guard piece by piece. Soon she'll have no choice but to come out to face me or be utterly disgraced."

"You assume Queen Jachull knows the meaning of the word disgrace," Rikash comments, swiping at another attacker with his claws. "Queen Barzha, I need some advice rather urgently."

"Now seems like the perfect moment for that," Queen Barzha says, and if he didn't know her he would have taken that as a sarcastic snub and shut up. He had, the first few times; now he knows that she's far too blunt to agree to anything she doesn't want to do at any point - even if she makes it sound like teasing.

So Rikash tells her all about Daine's deal with the Great Gods and the consequences, all in between clawing and chopping and occasional fireballs.

"- so on one wing, we need Daine's help to defeat the immortals dealing with Uusoae and Numair, her avatar, but, on the other wing, if we let her complete her agreement, we're totally at her mercy. On a third wing -"

"What sort of many-winged abomination are we dealing with here?" Zusha interrupts to ask.

Rikash rolls his eyes. "Anyway, you get the point. Serje said that I should ask you what to do."

Queen Barzha hums thoughtfully. "I see your dilemma," she says, weaving a delicate net of crimson with her claws and dropping it to gently drift down on a quartet of winged apes. It sears their flesh and doesn't let them escape. "Based on your judgment of her personality, do you think she'll be true to her promise to break her agreement?"

"I mean," Rikash says. "I - think so? I would have said yes for sure, before I found out she made the deal in the first place. And, uh, I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask."

"I think you did the right thing," Queen Barzha says. "You have good instincts, and moreover you were right in terms of priorities: if Uusoae breaks free, we have no chance at all. If Sarrasri does prove to be false, we can always appeal our case - first to the Great Gods, then to Mother Flame and Father Universe, in a pinch."

Rikash hadn't thought of that.

"Oh, good," he says, bringing his wing down hard on another Stormwing's face. "That's good. I'm glad. Uh, while I'm asking for advice already -"

"Yes?"

"Well, you know how I said I was probably not the best judge of character when it came to Daine? That's because, uh, I am - er - rather embarrassingly fond of her."

"I gathered," Queen Barzha says dryly.

“But –”

“Rikash. I _gathered_.”

Zusha is laughing again.

"You're not very good at hiding what you feel," Queen Barzha tells him, not without sympathy. "At all. I've already given her a talking to about not breaking your heart."

Rikash swears all the blood in his body suddenly relocates to his face. "You _didn't_! We’re not – we’re just _friends_! That’s all I meant! Tell me you didn’t!"

"I did," she confirms with a smirk. 

"We didn't," Zusha says cheerfully. "We just advised her on the best type of breeding present for a fine Stormwing like yourself."

"I hate - everything about that," Rikash marvels. "Absolutely everything. Not least of all because we’re _not breeding_." 

“Sure, I believe you.”

“We’re _not_ , you flat-faced hen – wait," he says, suddenly suspicious. "That bit about the chain link ring..."

"I've heard that humans like put rings on each other to show that they've wed."

"I _hate_ you."

"You too, sweetheart."

"Duck!"

She ducks.

The oncoming axe goes whirling over her head.

"Now, now, children," Queen Barzha says, smirking, "save your fighting for the other side - there she is! Cover me!"

She dives forward, aiming straight at Queen Jachull. Rikash is right behind her, with Hebakh twisting away from his battle to cover her right flank, and Zusha starts casting fireballs in all directions to scatter the crowd in between the Queens.

And then that's it, the two Queens are fighting, claw to claw, magic to magic, steel wing against steel wing.

Or at least, that _should_ be it - Stormwing law forbids any third party from interfering in such a battle, lest a duel for sovereignty become a free-for-all governed by whoever had the most followers rather than a test of merit, but Gikora, Queen Jachull's Lord, doesn't seem any more interested in the merits of Stormwing law and tradition than her lord.

"I've got her!" Rikash shouts, twisting in midair and throwing himself at Gikora. "Guard the battle!"

Next thing he knows, he's locked claw-in-claw with another Lord while Hebakh and Zusha circle the two fighting Queens to ensure no one else decides to intervene before the duel is decided. 

Gikora slashes at him with her wing, but he grabs her claws with his and twists to avoid it, pulling her with him with his body weight and knocking her off balance. 

She shrieks and slams her head forward into his, hard enough that Rikash sees stars for a moment, but he retaliates by casting a fireball.

Yes, while their claws are still intertwined.

Yes, it hits him, too - but it mostly hits her, and that's what counts.

(Stormwing law has a lot to say about who fights who and where and when, and who can interfere, but very little to say about the allowable contents of said fights - and Rikash has always been very creative.)

Gikora shrieks again, this time with pain. "You pathetic little _infant_!" she spits. "How dare you challenge me!"

"I think you mean, how dare I crush you like the cheating scum you are," Rikash says, voice syrupy. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

She tries to cut his throat with her wing.

Rikash, expecting that type of frontal attack, abruptly stops flying.

Entirely.

He wraps up both wings and magic and just lets the world abruptly realize that there's a large hunk of steel sitting there in the sky.

Down he goes.

His claws, it need not be said, are still clutching onto Gikora's.

At first she falls, too, suddenly weighed down by his dead weight, and a swift turn on Rikash's part is enough to have them whirling about like the head of a top, but after a few seconds of extreme vertigo for both of them, Gikora decides she's had enough of Rikash's nonsense.

She flares her wings open wide, using magic and wind both to stop their abrupt descent.  
Rikash, who was waiting for that, immediately releases her claws, using them as a lever to vault himself upwards -

Right in front of Gikora's now unprotected belly.

He hits her with a wing.

She shrieks.

He hits her again, and again, and then, when she's sluggish and dazed, he catches the wind with his own wings and uses his claws to rip out her throat even as he soars back up to rejoin his Queen.

Because he is _not_ an infant, so there.

"Unorthodox," Hebakh remarks, watching Gikora's corpse fall into the sea below, where an unusually high number of sharks are swimming around enjoying themselves. "Very unorthodox. But one can't fault your efficiency."

"Where'd you learn brawling like that?" Zusha wants to know. "That’s not a Stormwing style, but you’ve only ever spent time with dragons – and dragons don't duel, not with their claws."

"They don't," Rikash agrees. "But they do believe that everyone ought to learn an unreasonable amount of physics, and the only way Moonwind could convince me to sit still for it was by making up practical applications for concepts like centrifugal force."

"That's _math_? Ick. I'll stick with traditional fighting, thanks."

"And that, I suspect, is why Rikash is the Lord," Hebakh says dryly. 

They're all flying around the Queens now, joined by several of the more honorable members of Queen Jachull's coterie. Queen Barzha has many little cuts all over her chest, the result of wing-slashes, but Queen Jachull has some deep claw-marks on her belly and a nasty gash on her shoulder, so Rikash thinks his Queen is a little in the lead. 

Not by as much as he'd like, though. Queen Jachull might be a void where there ought to be a Stormwing, but she wouldn't be the Queen of the Mortal Fear nation, one of the largest, if she didn't know how to fight.

They're pretty evenly matched. Rikash is just convincing himself that the duel will end in a draw, both sides retreating in sheer exhaustion, or that it will turn into a long drawn-out slugfest that will leave both of them in pieces, when suddenly, it's not.

Queen Barzha levers herself up and drops down in a short-range dive - Queen Jachull spins and lifts a wing to protect herself from the claws she's expecting Queen Barzha to hit her with - Queen Barzha brings her wing down instead, right into the fleshy part of Queen Jachull's shoulder -

It's over.

Jachull gurgles and spits blood, a last ditch defiance, but that's all. The life leaves her body and Queen Barzha lets it drop away.

"Enough," she shouts in the shrieking sound that is their native tongue. "Stormwings - enough!"

Everyone turns to look at her.

"Your Queen is dead," she declares in the Stormwing tongue, the only one fit for such pronouncements. "Your Lord is dead. Mortal Fear, you fly with no leader - until one is elected, you fly with me. And I say that we drive away these other immortals, ape or horse or otherwise, and turn our attention to our rightful prey of the humans beneath our wings! It's playtime!"

A ragged cheer goes up at that, and they all turn to obey.

"Playtime?" Rikash asks.

Queen Barzha shrugs, looking understandably tired. "Playing together is important for building bonds. It's still a few weeks until the next full moon and they'll fly with us until they can get a new leader, so we should expect some people opting to switch nations before that happens - not uncommon when there's a defeat like this."

"New blood's not a bad thing," Hebakh comments. "My dear, are you well?"

"Fine, fine. Just need to catch my breath; then I can get back to the business of leading two nations. Rikash - yes, you can and should go. Zusha will assist us here."

Rikash, who had been feeling torn between staying to help with managing their new temporarily allied flocks and wanting to go at once, nods his thanks and immediately wheels about to fly to the north.

To the north - and Daine.


	6. 6

Rikash flies as fast as he can manage. Daine needs to know that another one of Uusoae's pawns has fallen, and anyway she might need help dealing with Gaoha. Ogres are tough-skinned, even before you consider the additional complication of Numair tracking Daine down.

The Stormwing battle might be over, but the rest of the battle rages on - waves of arrows flying into the air, ships casting blobs of liquid fire into the air and using magic to send it towards land, winged apes fleeing grasping draconic claws - and Rikash has to spend some magic on shielding himself from it. 

He wouldn't want to survive all that and then die because he wasn't guarding against an arrow, after all.

Still, the combination of the fighting and the magic drain are starting to affect him - he's tired and hungry, even though he's drinking in as much of the terror around him as he can - and he finds that it's starting to be more of a strain to fly.

No matter; he can rest later. Finding Daine is more important.

Except when he gets to the northern camp, which is now a disaster ground overrun by all sorts of wildlife and Tortallan soldiers rather than the immortal attackers, he doesn't see her.

He does see -

"Serje! What are you doing?"

Serje starts guiltily. He'd been perched on an overturned table and chatting with a redheaded boy - a teenager, or possibly just past, with an intently curious expression. 

"Oh, hey, Rikash," he says. "We won."

"I can see that you won," Rikash says. "Is Gaoha dead?"

"Yeah. He was tough, though - ogres always are -"

"Where's Dubukk?"

"He sprained a wing," Serje says, nodding over to a nearby hospice tent. "This young man's purple-eyed mother is taking a stab at healing him."

"While debating the merit of cats versus rabbits," the young man in question puts in. Rikash misjudged his age a little: he can't be more than six or seven years younger than Daine, so he would have just passed his adolescence. "Very serious."

Rikash ignores him. "And you -?"

"I'm keeping watch, of course!" Serje exclaims. "Temporary allies or no, I'm not letting Dubukk go alone into a tent with a knight capable of muffling spells without making sure he stays all right -"

"Serje, that sounds fine," Rikash snaps. "But _where's Daine_?"

"...ah."

"Serje!"

"She rode away on Cloud," the still nameless young redhead says, presumably referring to an animal who went by that name rather than a fluffy collection of condensation. "We're not sure where - we think she's trying to lure Numair away."

"Which direction?" Rikash demands.

"That way," Serje says, nodding. "You don't need to worry about the coldfangs, though; it turns out they weren't following a thief but rather guarding a treasure - in this case, Numair -"

"I'm not worried about the coldfangs! I'm worried about her going up against the strongest mortal mage alive!"

"Good call," the redhead says. "Ma and I working together nearly drained ourselves trying to block him before Daine managed to get away -"

"Thus the disaster," Serje says. "We're going to gather a war-band to follow her once Dubukk is ready and this lot feel up to some location spells -"

Rikash doesn't wait for that; he leaps into the air at once and flies as fast as he can, battle-aura and all.

He's sure he'll need it.

It actually doesn't take too long to find Daine - he just watches the movement of the animals, which are instinctively drawn to come to Daine's assistance before suddenly turning away at her order, and just follows the way they were originally moving.

And, once he's close, he can see the arcs of sparkling black magic.

Looks like Daine found Numair -

Or he found her.

"Daine!" Rikash calls, dropping low and flying deeper into the woods, looking for them. The trees are tall and dense here, forming a canopy that shields the two mages from view, but the smell of fear and magic, both wild and Gifted, is unmistakable at this distance. "Daine!"

He finds them beside a small creek.

Numair's eyes are lidded and half-asleep, and his posture is relaxed; Daine is - something Rikash doesn't recognize. 

She might not be any real animal at all, in fact, but instead an amalgamation of forms, shifting between useful features in a blink.

Ironically enough, she looks like a chaos creature.

"Rikash!" Daine exclaims. "Is Jachull -"

"Dead! All the pawns are dead!"

"Good."

With that, she pulls out the stone she stole - a misshappen bit of lava rock whose colors change like a black opal gone berserk.

Numair's eyes glint at that.

Literally - they glow a matching mix of colors.

Presumably just in case they'd forgotten that he was Uusoae's chosen avatar. Not good!

Daine moves to smash the stone, but her hand freezes in a sudden block of glittering black light.

"Nice try, my dear," Numair says, his voice suddenly gone scratchy and cacophonous, as if there were multiple voices in his throat all trying to vocalize at once. "I've taken pity on you until now -"

"Pity, rot!" Daine spits. "Numair's fighting back - _that's_ why you can't access any of his best spells! You haven't used a single word of power the entire time you've chased me; I wager you never managed to pry those lose."

Numair bares his teeth. "Immaterial. I have enough to defeat you, little girl, and I look forward to devouring you -"

Rikash charges the mage from behind.

It doesn't work, of course: he wasn't even really expecting it to, but the second he feels the black magic wrap around him, he throws three fireballs in quick succession.

Insofar as his goal was to keep himself from getting killed, it just barely works - what is now increasingly obviously Uusoae-in-Numair has to use some of the human's magic to block the fireballs, and instead of simply suffocating Rikash, she throws him backwards into a tree with bone-shattering force.

He just barely manages to twist until he's got a steel wing in place to take the blow, which is good because otherwise Zusha's morbid little prediction about getting his head split open would've come true.

Insofar as his goal was to distract Uusoae from Daine, however, it's a total success.

Daine smashes the chaos stone.

Rikash tenses, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does other than Uusoae shrieking with rage through Numair's mouth.

That's bad enough, though - the contrast between his still half-closed eyes and calm neutral expression, and the unearthly gargling shout being forced from his vocal cords, is unsettling.

"You have interfered with my plans too often, Weirynsra," Uusoae - not even a hint of human in the voice anymore - hisses, taking a menacing step forward. "But it does not matter that you have destroyed my anchor - I have no more need of it, thanks to you and your over-curious friend! This body is strong and capable of bearing me for as long as his Gift can keep it running. And for him that will be a long, long time..."

Daine grabs her bow and starts firing arrows, but it’s no good. They can’t get past the magic shield that Uusoae tosses up, full of the glittering black magic she stole.

_Rikash!_

Rikash looks up at the whisper of his name.

Skysong is hiding in the trees.

 _Throw me at Numair!_ she demands. _His shielding magic doesn’t work against me!_

“Are you _crazy_? Dragons are sensitive to magic! You’re too small – you’ll overheat!”

And for dragons, magical overheating usually means spontaneous combustion.

_Yes, exactly! We figure that out some ten years ago when I accidentally walked into one of Numair’s shields and got sick – luckily it was just a small shield – but ever since then, he’s worked out a way to make sure that it won’t hurt me when he shields himself. I recognize the same patterns in his shields now._

“But –”

 _Daine didn’t want me to fight, but I can. I can_ help. _Please!_

Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut.

Even if what your gut says is to grab a small dragon kitling in your claws and spin around quickly so that you can throw her at full strength at the direction of the very dangerous mage.

As she’d predicted, Skysong passes through the black magic shield without so much as a pause.

Uusoae hadn’t been expecting that.

She hadn’t been expecting to get an angry dragon kitten clawing at her face, either.

Snarling with rage, she tears Skysong off of her and throws her away.

“Kitten!” Daine shrieks, and runs forward on powerful ostrich legs. 

Rikash uses the distraction – Uusoae, ironically enough, isn’t actually very good at coping with mortal chaos, so in her desire to get Skysong away from her she's dropped her shield – to throw himself at her once more.

This time, he even makes contact with his claws – just the slightest bit of Numair’s shoulder – before Uusoae reacts.

This time, Uusoae lashes out with chaos magic, not human magic, and Rikash _really_ goes flying, head over tail.

He smashes into a tree and sinks down to the ground, convinced that he’s broken at least three ribs and also that the stars he’s seeing are probably not a good sign. 

Uusoae turns her stolen body back to face Daine, but Daine is already right in front of her.

Human once more, and naked but for the badger claw she always wears around her neck.

Just the badger claw.

Wait, what happened to the –

“I’m sorry, Numair,” Daine says, and brings the Stormwing feather Queen Barzha had given her down into Numair’s injured arm.

Rikash has just enough time to shut his eyes before there is a great burst of light and a sound like a gong.

He knows that sound.

Everyone does, even though it’s been centuries since a mortal has been foolish enough to try it despite knowing that it would be a one way trip.

The sound of someone turning themselves into an immortal.

Rikash opens his eyes.

Daine is standing there, still naked, but in front of her there is a Stormwing with the dark hair and eyes and features of Numair.

He blinks and shakes his head.

“Daine?” he says.

That’s not Uusoae’s voice.

“Numair?” Daine asks, her voice quavering. “Is that you? I mean – really you?”

“Yes – oh, Daine – I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you and Alanna – I – what happened?”

“I turned you into a Stormwing,” Daine says. “Queen Barzha said that there was a chance it would knock Uusoae out of you – just a chance – oh, Numair..!”

“But immortal transformations are irreversible,” he says, his eyes going wide. “My magic –”

No immortal can use human Gifts.

“I know,” Daine says quietly. “Uusoae was using your magic against Tortall. We had to stop you somehow; there only alternative was to kill you. I’m sorry.”

 _Behind you!_ an equine voice shouts – a mountain pony, tied to a tree a few meters back, presumably for her own protection given the way she's lunging forward to try to help. Presumably this is Cloud. _Daine, drat you, look behind you!_

Daine spins and manages to duck just before the chaos bolt Uusoae – now manifested in horrible ever-shifting oleaginous person right where the rock Daine destroyed was, since she lacks any other anchor on the Mortal Realms – hits her head. 

“You will pay for that!” the goddess of chaos screeches, her many-voiced racket of a voice now unhindered by having to pass through a human throat. “I will make you pay –”

There’s another sudden glow of bright white light, this one slowly unrolling like a fog.

That, too, is familiar.

After all, you don’t live in the Divine Realms and _not_ know what a summoning by the Great Gods looks like.

The white fog envelops Uusoae, then reaches out for Daine and Numair.

“Hey, no, wait!” Daine yelps. “You can’t take me; I’ve got a war to finish - !”

The fog disappears, Uusoae, Daine and Numair along with it.

Rikash groans and forces himself upright.

 _That was well done_ , the pony tells him. _Now come over and get me out of these cursed reins._

Rikash limps over to her. “Cloud, I take it?” he says, eyeing the reins. 

_That’s right. And you’re Rikash, the Stormwing Daine’s been nattering on about._

“She has?”

_You’re as bad at this as she is, aren’t you?_

“What does that even mean? No, I meant – _when_ did she tell you about me? She’s only been back in the Mortal Realms for a few days!”

_I raised her from a colt; I know her well enough to demand answers in exchange for a ride. Now get these rein off; I want to see if Kitten’s all right._

Rikash’s too tired to hop up and cut the reins with his claws, so he carefully uses one of his wings to slice them apart.

_Good. Now, I think Kitten went this way…_

Cloud trots off.

Rikash groans at the thought of moving, but his concern for Skysong outweighs it and he forces himself back into the air with a few painful flaps, following Cloud.

They find Skysong at the base of a tree, no worse for wear. 

_They took Daine without me!_ she exclaims, sounding irritated. _Oh, when I learn to travel the realms, they’ll pay for that…_

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Rikash tells her. “Cloud, could you take her back to safety? I’m too tired for a passenger right now, and I need to get back to my Queen.”

_I can. Are you sure you can fly? You seem exhausted – also, has anyone ever told you you’re too skinny?_

Rikash rolls his eyes. Not another one!

“I’ll see you later, Skysong,” he tells her, and uses a push of magic to get some altitude, breaking through the treetops and starting to flap his wings painfully to get enough altitude to fly back towards where the Stormwings have already begun breaking up the battle with their play.

Rikash can see that some parts of the battle are still ongoing, some way distant, but the whole thing seems infinitely far - further than the Abattoir from Temptation Lake. He made it here in relatively quick time, but that was fueled by adrenaline: the way back, now that he knows Daine is safe, is significantly less urgent, so he saves his energy by gliding on the thermals instead.

Sure, it'll take longer, but it's fine. There'll still be battle left for him when he gets there. The main force has turned to chaos and the battle is won, but that doesn't mean it's anywhere near over - arrows are still flying, and cornered enemies are the most vicious. Still, it looks like the forces of chaos were utterly routed the second Uusoae was defeated – winged apes fleeing, spidrens scattering, hired humans suddenly realizing all their leadership was gone. 

Good.

That’ll please Daine, when she come back.

By the gods, Rikash is _exhausted_. 

That’s probably why it’s not until he’s halfway back to the battle that he abruptly realizes the significance of what just happened.

Daine just turned Numair into a Stormwing.

Numair – her dearest friend, her mentor, her ex-lover. 

Daine just _willingly collaborated_ with Queen Barzha to turn her friend into a Stormwing. 

She’d been carrying that feather as far back as the Abattoir, where they must have discussed the issue. She kept carrying it all this time – even though she thought Numair was dead – she went through with the plan even when she knew, thanks to Serje’s big mouth, that he was in fact alive –

Her best friend is now a Stormwing.

If Daine's deal goes through, he'll be locked into the Divine Realms to starve, same as the rest of them. Daine would never do that, not to a friend. 

She _must_ be planning on breaking her deal.

More than that, she planned to break it all along. She must have made the decision as far back as the Abattoir, where she made the agreement with Queen Barzha to get the feather, and there was every chance she'd decided as much earlier. 

Perhaps even, as she said, when she met them.

Met _him_.

He may have saved his entire kind just by agreeing to work with the Stormwing Killer.

Rikash might very well be more pleased about that victory than about saving the world from Uusoae. He has no doubt that Daine could be a far more fearsome threat if she wanted to be.

In fact, he's even a little sorry for the Great Gods having to deal with her now, having dragged her away from a battle where her friends were at risk. She'll be in such a temper!

Rikash entertains himself with thoughts of Daine in a fury: hair framing her face like a halo, eyes narrowed and cheeks red, fists clenched, her whole body emanating a feeling of a dominant and very angry predator far larger than her human self...

Oh, yes, Rikash would far rather be here than in the Great Gods’ place right now.

Rikash has just managed to find Queen Barzha in the whole messy battlefield when the familiar scent of godhood fills in the air.

He twists around to look for it.

"On the castle," Queen Barzha says. She's splattered with blood and gore and rotting flesh, and she looks divinely happy. A Stormwing in her true element. "Look, by the wall."

Rikash looks.

Sure enough, the familiar white fog of the Great Gods is unfurling.

"You think that's her? Already?" Rikash asks, squinting.

"Having met the young woman, I have no doubt that she bullied her way to getting a quick ride back as soon as possible," Hebakh says, smirking. "I could almost feel bad for the Gods, having to deal with her."

"A girl after my own heart," Queen Barzha remarks.

"Now, now, dear," Hebakh says mildly. "Surely you mean after _Rikash's_ heart -"

“We’re just friends!” Rikash squawks. 

Queen Barzha grins at him.

"I'm going to go see how the deal turned out," Rikash says hastily before they can start teasing him anymore. He can see a small female figure and a Stormwing, presumably Numair since he's the only one who wouldn't immediately abandon the castle in favor of a battlefield. "Since we're all still here, I think we can safely assume we're not imminently going to die."

"That sounds right," Queen Barzha says. "Though of course it never hurts to check - especially with such a lovely messenger -"

Rikash manages to keep from sticking his tongue out at her and leaps into the air, heading for the castle.

He'd say that he feels revitalized by Daine's return, which to a certain extent he is, but he's still extremely tired. He's not sure why - there's a _battle_! He's a _Stormwing_! He's feasting on human fear by the literal battalion-load!

There's no reason to be -

To be -

His vision starts fading black.

Rikash struggles to stay aloft, to make it that final distance to the castle, but all he manages is to get close enough to see Daine's smiling face suddenly change to concern, and then to horror, and hear her cry, "Rikash! No!" as he falls from the sky.

And then everything is silent.

Rikash wakes slowly. 

His whole body is sore, which he takes as a good sign. He's not sure, of course, but he reasons that the Black God's realm would be somewhat more comfortable. 

He's been a good Stormwing, after all.

...he thinks.

He cracks an eye open, trying to get a read on his surroundings. He's lying on something unreasonably soft, he knows that much - too soft, really, he feels like he's on quicksand, but in fact it appears to be some sort of bed. 

A bed! Like a _human_!

There's a Stormwing perched on a stool not far away from him - male, with dark hair and swarthy skin barely visible under some cloth that he for some reason has wrapped around his throat, facing away from Rikash to peer down at some excessively large tome that's laid out on a desk.

Rikash doesn't recognize him.

Then he leans forward and tries to turn a page with his _teeth_ , which is unbelievably stupid, and in the process he turns his face so that Rikash can see his profile, and then Rikash recognizes him.

"Numair?" he croaks, surprised.

Numair jumps into the air, clearly not having expected Rikash to wake up, and then he clatters pathetically to the ground because he's let his wings knock him off balance.

What a disaster.

Rikash, to his embarrassment, finds it endearing. It's like watching a bumbling chick learn to hop.

"You need to move them both at once," Rikash advises, automatically trying to maneuver himself in an upright position. He nearly overshoots it himself, but manages to correct himself by flaring his wings. His wings feel weird. "Not separate from each other."

"So Queen Barzha has informed me," Numair asks, reshuffling himself back up as well. "Alas, I seem to be finding the lived experience slightly more difficult than the theory."

"Don't you have any humans skills that require you to know where both of your hands are at the same time?"

"Why, yes. In fact, I'm an excellent juggler - used to be an excellent juggler, that is." He glances wryly at his wings. "Perhaps not so much anymore."

"We use our magic instead of hands," Rikash tells him. "Your experience with hands will give you a head start on getting your magic right."

Numair looks intrigued. "More than my experience with magic?"

"Knowing the principles will help, but Stormwing magic tends to be more utilitarian in its rules - or lack thereof - than human Gift. Also, what happened to me? Did I get hit by something? Last thing I remember is falling out of the sky."

And Daine shouting his name.

At the time, Rikash had been sure that he was dying.

"Oh, that," Numair says. "No, you weren't hit by anything. Apparently, it was just that you were about due biologically for something called a 'First Molt' -"

In retrospect, maybe dying wouldn't have been so bad.

Or at least, not so embarrassing!

On the bright side...

He looks down at himself.

No fuzz, that's the first thing he notices. Long, sharp claws that no Stormwing would be ashamed of. His wings are broader in span, each feather now lying perfectly straight and sharp enough to cut through whatever he wished. 

No coat of mud or gore, but he supposes that's what you get when you're laid to sleep in human beds.

Even his human side is changed, as far as he can see it: his chest and shoulders - nothing dramatic, really, just stronger shoulders, designed to hold his powerful new wings. He flexes one wing experimentally and his chest barely moves with the strain of it.

Excellent!

"Stormwing physiology is fascinating," Numair muses. "Entirely different anatomically from mortal animals, even morphologically similar ones -"

"Well, now you have a body of your own to examine," Rikash says hastily. He doesn't want to be volunteered into any experiments. "I'd focus more on the cultural divide, if I were you."

"That certainly seems to reasonable," Numair says wryly. "I'm still not sure if it's entirely possible for me to overcome my engrained distaste for the manner in which Stormwings dispose of human remains -"

"The remains of war," Rikash corrects. "Not that we're above tossing around the odd spare corpse or two, but you don't find us raiding cemeteries or disrupting funerals, do you? With the exception of notable warmongers, anyway."

"You make a distinction? How would you know, once they're in the grave?"

"You can smell it. Don’t worry; you’ll pick it up - we have educational games we can show you to help refine your sense of smell. But as it happens I was more talking about _that_."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I assume you have what appears to be a monk's hood and cowl around your neck because it mimics human clothing? Well, it's both hideous _and_ pointless - anything resting on your shoulders will restrict your wingspan."

"I'd noticed that," Numair admits. "But these are my friends and colleagues; I can't just go around bare-chested among them -"

"Human nudity taboo, right; Daine mentioned that."

"Yes, that. Besides, I feel a bit - bare. Don't Stormwings have any equivalent that they use to cover themselves?"

"Mud," Rikash says honestly. "Blood and gore, if it's available - it demonstrates that you're a good hunter. If you're particularly vain, like I am, you might put something in your hair."

He shakes his head, enjoying hearing the bones click. 

"That's enough to get you called particularly vain?" Numair echoes, his eyebrows arched. 

His suspiciously perfectly shaped eyebrows, now that Rikash is paying attention. Numair clearly has his own predilections towards vanity. 

“Well, let me put it this way,” Rikash says dryly. “I don’t have hands. I’d like you to consider the amount of effort it took to get anything at all braided into my hair. _Braided_.”

Numair considers. “…I see. Well done. But surely there must be some measure of differentiation – don’t your Stormwing females like to beautify themselves?”

“Sure they do,” Rikash agrees. “They beautify themselves the same way as the men do – by sharpening their claws.”

“Their…claws?”

“Don’t worry,” Rikash assures him. “You have very long claws. You have nothing to be embarrassed about in any measuring contest.”

“ _Measuring contest_?!” Numair’s voice has suddenly gone high and squeaky. “About _claws_?!”

“Certainly,” Rikash says, as innocently as he can manage. “What else could you possibly be measuring? What do human males measure?”

He knows perfectly well what human males measure, but watching Numair squirm in embarrassment is actually rather hilarious, especially given he is in fact a perfectly attractive specimen of Stormwing kind, if you look at him objectively and ignore the way he's wobbling like he's about to fall over.

(He’d say he feels a sudden kinship with Queen Barzha’s desire to constantly needle _him_ , but it’s somehow different when you’re the one getting teased.)

“Rikash! You’re awake!” a very welcome female human voice exclaims.

Rikash turns to the door with a smile as Daine rushes in. She’s dressed again, which he supposes is to be expected when among humans, and he must admit that the simple blue dress she’s wearing does set off her eyes. 

“Also, Numair is blushing,” she comments, coming to a stop and putting her hands on her hips. “Why is Numair blushing? Rikash, what have you been telling him?”

“Nothing at all,” Rikash says, grinning. “I was just asking a few questions about the practices of human males, that’s all.”

Daine – who gott to witness at least one claw-measuring contest on her travels with them – snorts. “Oh, I bet,” she says. “Now, here, let me look at you – you know, you’re not all that different from how you were before.”

“No fuzz,” Rikash points out immediately. “And my wings are longer and sharper.”

“Yes, yes; I meant – your face.”

“I was already all but fully grown,” Rikash reminds her. “It was just the last bit of it I had to get over.”

She nods, a touch distracted as she inspects him. “Your face is a little longer, I think. A little less baby fat on the cheeks. But you’re still very much _you_.” 

“Hopefully a good thing?”

Daine smiles. “A very good thing. I think I might’ve missed you, if you’d been fool enough to die on me.”

Numair sighs loudly. “Here we are, having a perfectly nice conversation about Stormwing culture to help me adjust, and suddenly everyone’s just staring into each other’s eyes –”

“Numair!”

“I count sixteen ‘incidents’ in which my attempted flirtations have been interrupted by miscellaneous animals,” Numair says sweetly. “It’s payback time.”

“Those women were bad for you,” Daine sniffs. “And Rikash and I are _friends_ ; you can push off!”

“ _Sixteen_ incidents -!”

Rikash starts laughing. He can’t help it – he’s alive, Daine is here, and it seems like Daine and Numair have settled into a relationship not unlike the one he has with Moonwind, though he’s never been foolish enough to interfere with any of Moonwind’s flirtations. Maybe his bantering friendship with Zusha is a better comparison.

Daine grins at him. “I talked to the Great Gods about the barrier,” she tells him. “The permanent barrier erected by human mages is going down for good, though the Great Gods have imposed a sort of bridge system, so to speak, to have some moderation in how many entities can travel between the Realms at any given time, so as to prevent invasions. Basically, it’ll function a bit like the Ley – you just need to find the right entranceway between the Realms and you can go anytime. Except the Great Gods can’t close the doors without warning everyone some brief time in advance!”

“You yelled at the Great Gods about traffic modulation,” Rikash says gleefully. “Oh, that’s wonderful; I’m sorry I missed that.”

“From what I understood, the Dream King is willing to see his way to visiting your dreams with a vision of the proceedings,” Numair says. “Apparently, having immortals around makes his job a lot easier, so he’s very grateful to all of us for it.” Then he wrinkles his nose. “I can’t believe I’m apparently now on speaking terms with one of the Great Gods.”

“Come live in the Divine Realms for a bit,” Rikash says dryly. “You’ll be complaining about them like a native soon enough.”

“Queen Barzha offered me a place in the Stone Tree nation,” Numair says. “I’m not sure what that entails.”

“Generally, that you listen when she says to do things,” Rikash says. “And that if anyone tries to start anything with you, your nation will crush them.”

“Not unlike nationality here, then,” Numair says. “Would I have to revoke my status as a citizen – not to mention court mage – of Tortall?”

“Technically, as an immortal, you’re not allowed to hold any human office,” Rikash says. “And human citizenship can be tricky, as under normal circumstances Stormwings aren’t supposed to pick sides in battle. It would only encourage people to try to buy us off.”

“Have people tried that, then?”

“Oh, yes. We tend to go after them first.”

Numair snorts. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Under the circumstances, though, I don’t see why you couldn’t retain your human citizenship in the short term, especially given your friendship with the individuals involved,” Rikash continues. “We could solve the issue by naming you ambassador to Tortall.”

“That might work,” Numair muses. “I wouldn’t want to abandon Alanna and Jon and Thayet and all the rest, but on the other hand –”

“Other wing,” Rikash corrects him.

Numair looks amusingly taken aback by that. “Ah. Yes. On the other wing, it might be beneficial for me to be named ambassador _of_ Tortall _to_ the Stone Tree nation, so that I might spend more time learning my new form – and my new magic.” He brightens. “I’m actually rather looking forward to that. An entirely new type of magic!”

“I don’t see why you can’t do both, if the barrier’s down and transit between the realms will be easier,” Rikash says with a shrug. “Consider it done.”

“You have the authority to do that?”

“Well, I am the Lord,” Rikash points out. “Queen Barzha can overturn it if she wants. Anyway, that set up won’t work forever, but it’ll be a good way of getting you adjusted in the short-term. We’ll revisit the issue in a century or so, how about that?”

Numair now looks even more taken aback. “A century,” he echoes. “Revisit it in a _century_. And that’s the _short_ term?!”

“…a half-century?” Rikash temporizes, but Numair’s expression just gets worse. “A – quarter-century? I don’t know, what do humans think short-term means?”

Daine starts laughing. “You’re immortal now, Numair,” she giggles. “Remember? It doesn’t just refer to the species; you’re _actually_ immortal!”

“Oh,” Numair says, wide-eyed. “I – hadn’t thought of that.”

Rikash likes him already. 

Anyone who thinks first about the new types of magic they’re going to learn is probably a better fit to actually become an immortal than any of the mortals that usually try the transformation. 

“It’s a good thing,” he tells Numair. “Your lifespan and Daine’s are now more equal.”

Numair blinks. “Daine?”

“Apparently, as a godborn, I’m entitled to become a goddess after I die no matter what,” Daine says. “That whole nonsense on my twenty-fifth birthday was just them trying to keep me from causing havoc by travelling between the realms too much. Though actually, that reminds me – in return for my services helping defeat Uusoae and since I wasn’t willing to accept the terms of our original bargain, I got the Great Gods to grant me a new request, instead.”

“Oh?” Rikash says. “What’d you get out of them?”

Daine grins. “Technically, just more work. I’m now responsible for helping promote understanding between humans and immortals, given my unique position between the two.”

“And in practice?”

“In practice, I told them that if I’m going to be doing that, I’m going to need to connect with immortals along the same lines as I do with animals. And so the Great Gods worked together as a group – it’s just like herding bureaucrats, just worse! – and granted me an exemption from the rule that any transformation into the shape of an immortal is irreversible.”

Rikash blinks and glances at Numair. “But…” 

“Just me,” Daine clarifies. “As a godborn, I’m apparently even more closely connected to Chaos than most humans, and way beyond what the gods are –”

“Do you know that your friend Dubukk has a theory that the gods actually represent chaos and Uusoae actually represents order?” Numair comments. “He pointed out that there’s a whole mess of gods in every shape and size and whatnot, and that they’re always feuding with each other over ridiculous things, while Uusoae might shift in shape all the time but she does so constantly and consistently and doesn’t ever do anything else. Not to mention the fact that the gods have different motivations and priorities, such that they can change their mind, whereas Uusoae’s goal is always fixed and thus, in it’s own way, more orderly…”

“That’s horrifying,” Daine says flatly.

“Don’t talk to Dubukk about philosophy,” Rikash advises. “It’ll be well-reasoned and interesting and you’ll end up questioning whether or not you’re a Stormwing or an earthworm with delusions of grandeur.”

“An _earthworm_..?”

“Don’t ask. So what does that exemption mean?” he asks. “Does that mean…?” 

Daine smirks. “Just watch.”

Then she pulls off her dress – clearly selected for ease of removal – and, ignoring Numair’s priggish yelp, shifts form.

Except this one has long, elegant steel wings and claws and –

“Oh,” Rikash says. “Oh _wow_.”

“So, how do I look?” Daine asks. 

“You’re beautiful in any form,” Rikash says promptly, because he isn’t an idiot – he’s rather vain himself, he knows what the right answer is! – and also because it’s true. “But by coincidence you happen to look radiant as a Stormwing.”

“Oh, he’s good,” Numair comments. “I take it back, I like him. You’re welcome to court each other at your leisure, ‘just friends’ or not. Maybe take another century to get around to it, though, just for my sake –”

“Numair,” Daine says sweetly. “Get out of here. Now. There’s a convenient window right there.”

“I can barely hop in this form, much less fly. Also, we still have all those animal incidents to account for…”

Rikash starts laughing again.

Numair and Daine will have to come back to the Divine Realm and this time they won’t be rushing frantically from place to place – he’ll be able to show Daine the best and the worst of it, the most beautiful sights and the places to avoid, introduce her to the creatures she’ll like and the ones she’ll grit her teeth and put up with anyway – maybe they’ll even visit the chicken saints and teach her how annoying the whole species is –

And, in return, she could show him around the Moral Realms. The place where she grew up, the friends she made, the best places for war to break out, and tell him about all the strange human customs that never made any sense.

Yes.

That sounds like a good way to spend the next century to him.


End file.
